


Delusions

by bedshaped3



Series: The Tripod Trilogy [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-12-20 06:46:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bedshaped3/pseuds/bedshaped3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Still shaken by his uncle's betrayal, Arthur is determined to look ahead and plan his future with Guinevere. However, a familiar dark force descends over Camelot, forcing a change in the King. Can anyone help Arthur before the relationships that keep him stable are destroyed?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set after 'Conflictions', AU.

Chapter 1

Agravaine de Bois' body had been discovered the day after his death by a servant girl taking down his meagre meal of bread and water. After her vision had adjusted to the darkness of the dank cell, she found herself staring into Agravaine's cold, unblinking eyes. His usually smug face was twisted into an expression of pure shock. Once the servant girl had been pacified and the meal removed from the tunnel floor, the King had been informed.

It was not until a few days later - and after a hasty discussion with Gaius - that Merlin finally told Arthur he feared Agravaine had been working with Morgana. This revelation was met with silence.

"Did you hear me, Arthur?" Merlin asked him, worried by the blank expression on his king's face. Arthur sighed wearily.

"Yes I heard you, Merlin. I'm just tired of it all." Watching Arthur for a few moments as he visibly wilted behind his desk, Merlin regretted telling the young Pendragon so soon after his turmoil over Gwen's assault. Merlin knew that Arthur's emotions were still raw from the guilt he felt. That, combined with the fact that Arthur's only living relatives conspired against him, was sure to reignite his feelings of inadequacy. Deciding to change the subject before Arthur fell deeper into his thoughts, Merlin broached the topic he knew always brought a smile to the King's face.

"Have you managed to convince Gwen about the roses yet?"

Realising instantly what Merlin was trying to do, Arthur was all too happy to play along. Planning the upcoming nuptials was the only thing he genuinely felt happy about these days. Letting out a frustrated groan, Arthur rested his chin on his hands.

"No, can you believe it?" Merlin stifled a grin at Arthur's tone - if his subjects could see their King whining now. "She still wants violets, Merlin. _Violets._ "

After recent events, the pair had decided to wait a little until the spring to have the wedding ceremony. In all honesty, Arthur would marry Guinevere tomorrow if he could, but something told him she was not ready. Instead he had suggested that they take time to plan, knowing that she liked to keep busy. Arthur's only obstacle now was convincing Gwen that a more lavish affair was in order, as she had taken a rather modest approach with little 'fuss'. What Arthur needed to make Guinevere understand was that she deserved the fuss.

"I still don't see what's wrong with them," Merlin shrugged, repeating the words he had said many times before to annoy Arthur. "Flowers are flowers." Arthur looked up at him in disbelief. This was Merlin's favourite part.

"They're not just flowers, _Merlin_. They're a symbol." Arthur paused as if to let the gravity of his words sink in. Merlin nodded quickly to signify he was listening intently. "Guinevere is special to me. I want every detail of the ceremony befitting of a Queen – even the flower arrangements."

Merlin watched Arthur rant on animatedly about the importance of the little details and smiled quietly to himself. Although he knew Arthur had not forgotten their earlier conversation, Merlin was happy to see his friend pleasantly distracted and close to his usual self. At least for a little while.

* * *

In the month that followed, the repercussions of Agravaine's betrayal resonated through Camelot. After Arthur's initial passiveness following the realisation that not only did his uncle despise him, he preferred his estranged half-sister, Arthur had sprung into action. He had ordered a nationwide search for conspirators and allies of Morgana or Agravaine and arranged their imprisonment. Most had been found, but Morgana herself was still proving elusive.

Though Arthur found it hard not to dwell on Agravaine's deceit, whenever he woke up feeling particularly melancholy Merlin was always there; bubbly and insistent that Arthur embrace the new day. However annoying his manservant became at times, Arthur knew he could not thank Merlin enough for sticking by him. He was one of the few constants left in his life aside from Guinevere and, for some reason, Merlin believed in him. It puzzled Arthur, as he feared he may never be the King Uther once was, but it always meant a great deal to him.

* * *

_Morgana…_

Morgana sat alone on the small bed in her empty cabin, listening as the strong winds forced her door to smack repeatedly against its frame. Winter was coming to an end and it was determined not to leave without a struggle. She shivered and wrapped herself up in her fraying, brown blanket.

As much as Agravaine had angered her, his death had had dire repercussions on her situation. Arthur's purge of Camelot after the incident meant she had no allies. Some were too afraid to oppose their King after he made it clear no mercy would be shown to traitors. Others suspected Morgana of Agravaine's death and could not bring themselves to trust her. She was stuck. Morgana was now even further away from gaining the throne of Camelot and consequently feeling very sorry for herself.

_Morgana…let me in._

He was persistent, Morgana would give him that. The last month had been torturous. Her dreams were plagued by images of Agravaine's motionless body, leaving Morgana in cold sweats and questioning why the death of her uncle had affected her in this way. The incidents were usually followed by the voice Morgana had heard weeks ago, pleading with her to 'let him in'. Morgana had searched the vicinity around her cabin and found nothing that indicated she was being spied on. The early confidence in the young man's tone had waned over time as Morgana continued to resist. How was she meant to trust someone who would not even tell her his name? All he had said when she had asked was that he was 'a friend'. In her current situation Morgana found that hard to believe.

_Morgana…please…_

She tried to block out the voice, focusing instead on the howling winds outside, but Morgana was always drawn back to it. She could feel his presence inside her head; he wanted access to her thoughts. One of the benefits of being a sorceress was that she was better at keeping her inner being to herself. Morgana constantly had her barriers up – there was nobody alive she could trust anymore.

* * *

Guinevere sat in her cottage and carefully stitched together a baby quilt for the expecting couple a few houses away. Since Arthur had insisted that she discontinue her servant duties now she was officially his intended, Gwen found herself sewing a lot more to pass the time. She enjoyed the calm that came with each perfect stitch and liked to experiment with various designs – some more successful than others. A few days ago Gwen had attempted to create her own wedding dress, until Arthur had spotted it and laughed. Admittedly it was not her best work and although Arthur was immediately apologetic, Gwen could not help but become flustered at his reaction. Only when Arthur had swept her into a knee-trembling kiss did Guinevere forget what had previously upset her.

The wedding day was a fast approaching and Gwen could scarcely believe it was real. When she thought about their first kiss in this very room, Guinevere remembered how she had believed any possible relationship between the two of them was pure fantasy. Now she was set to become Queen of Camelot. Guinevere often wondered if the people would truly accept her once she sat on the throne. She knew there were nobles who were still uneasy about Arthur's choice of companion. Gwen hoped she had the strength to lead the kingdom as nobly as Arthur did – she wanted to make him proud. Perhaps her humble beginnings could be the key to understanding the people of Camelot and earning their respect.

Gwen looked wistfully around the small room she had called her home for over two decades. She would miss this the most; her haven, where she could relax after a hard day's work and forget the rudeness of some of the courtiers she had served. Soon, Guinevere would move into the castle and the last thing she could call her very own would be no more. After Agravaine's attack, Gwen had been apprehensive about moving into the castle and eventually Arthur's bedchambers. She had finally managed to enter the room without being overcome by nausea, but Gwen still felt anxious being there in Arthur's absence. Despite his eagerness to wed, she knew Arthur had sensed her hesitancy and delayed the proceedings. He understood her.

Setting aside her creation and wrapping her arms around her knees, Guinevere was content to sit there and think of her future husband. Words could not describe how much she loved Arthur, and at that moment in time, Guinevere felt like the luckiest person in the world.

* * *

Morgana's eyes flew open to the sound of screaming, unaware that it emanated from her own mouth. She was alone; she had nobody because she had killed the only person who valued her above Arthur. Agravaine was weak-minded and selfish, but he had chosen her when Uther had not.

_Morgana!_

Forcing herself to stop screaming, Morgana took in shallow breaths to try settle her racing heart. It felt like she had regressed back to the time when her magic was still alien to her. Morgana could not go back to being that person.

_I can help you. I would never hurt you…let me in._

Morgana felt his presence caress her mind as if to assure her he meant no harm. It disturbed Morgana that she had never been particularly scared of the voice; in fact there was something oddly familiar about him. All she knew was that if she obliged him, something significant would happen and Morgana was doubtful she could cope with any more change. Her resolve weakened by fear, she slowly opened up her mind to him. Immediately Morgana felt a wave of calm wash over her. The images of Agravaine's dead body faded like distant memories and she welcomed sleep like a long-lost friend.

_Thank you._ He sounded relieved.

"Who are you?" Morgana murmured softly as she drifted off. Finally he whispered his name to her and Morgana smiled in her slumber. She was not alone anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

Mordred broke the link between Morgana's mind and his, falling back into an empty chair with exhaustion. He could scarcely believe he had found her; Mordred had been sure he would never see Morgana again after Alvarr's plan had been discovered and he had been forced to run for his life. Mordred had been aware of the connection they shared, but had been unable to get through to her since their separation. It had been Morgana, in her anguish over Agravaine, who had inadvertently restored that connection. Mordred had refrained from delving too deep into her mind, as now she trusted him he did not want to jeopardise their tentative reunion. Mordred had, however, managed to find out where she was hiding out.

Mordred was currently staying at an inn towards the western border of Camelot near Caerleon's kingdom. His father Cerdan had been the glue that held Mordred's relationship with the Druids together. Although the Druids were a peaceful people, he knew they felt uneasy in his presence. Their methods for restoring magic to the kingdom of Camelot differed greatly from his own ideas. It irritated Mordred that the Druids seemed content to wait for their supposed saviour Emrys to unite the kingdom – effectively leaving everything to destiny. Mordred did not believe in destiny. Cerdan had stood by him, cared for him and protected him without hesitation, teaching Mordred ways in which to use his magic. It still hurt Mordred to think of him. Following his father's death, Mordred had slowly felt the link between him and the Druids disintegrating. They still protected him – it was in their nature – but Mordred could feel that they were wary of the scope of his powers.

Severing his ties with the Druids he had grown up with, Mordred joined forces with Alvarr; a sorcerer who seemed more proactive in his fight against the ban on magic. His approach seemed more suited to Mordred's, so he followed without question. When their attempt to retrieve a powerful crystal had been thwarted by Emrys, Mordred had been forced to escape into the woods alone. It was not until a year later that Mordred discovered Alvarr had managed to escape from the cells in Camelot. The sorcerer had sought Mordred out in the hope that he would once again assist him in stealing the crystal. This lead the boy to question whether Alvarr's obsession with the crystal's power was entirely healthy. Mordred refused to help him, which pushed Alvarr over the edge as he attempted to force the boy to travel with him. Unsuccessfully. Mordred showed him no mercy – he was not one for being used.

Mordred spent the next few years travelling from tavern to tavern, honing his magical skills on unsuspecting citizens. Mordred felt confident in most spells, but his speciality involved matters of the mind. He tested his gift by planting thoughts or taking information from other people, revelling in the different results his actions granted him. Some people had their characters and, in turn, their lives transformed; while others were pushed to the brink of madness. Naturally, this meant Mordred could not stay in a village for too long and he travelled constantly, relying on the kindness of strangers – whether they gave it to him willingly or not. The only downside to Mordred's telepathic abilities was he could not use it for long, as it left him feeling weak. Mordred hoped with practice, this side effect would soon subside.

No matter where Mordred ended up, Morgana was never too far away from his thoughts; her kindness and acceptance of him had reminded him of Cerdan. Mordred often wondered what had become of her, and though Mordred's nomadic lifestyle meant he never stayed long enough to keep up with events, he had heard she was a traitor to Camelot. Mordred assumed her magic had been discovered and since then had made it his duty to try and connect with her. It had been a disheartening exercise – until now. Now it was time see Morgana again.

* * *

"When will he return?" Gwen questioned, pouring Merlin a glass of water to go with the soup she had set before him.

"Thanks…tomorrow hopefully." He took a gulp of water before continuing. "The hut seems so empty without him." A few of Camelot's more trusted knights had been sent to Balor, a neighbouring village, to assist in fending off attacks from raiders. Gaius had opted to travel with them and administer first aid to those who needed it – leaving Merlin feeling a little despondent for the best part of a week.

Gwen placed her bowl of soup on the small table and took the seat opposite him. Thinking that Arthur would probably have Merlin working late again, Gwen had offered to have supper waiting for him in an attempt to cheer him up. Surprisingly, Arthur had given his manservant the rest of the night off, prompting Gwen to join him for the evening meal. She tore apart a piece of warm bread, handed Merlin a chunk and watched as he immediately stuffed it into his mouth. Shaking her head, Gwen started to eat her soup whilst Merlin told her of the tasks he had been given for the day through each mouthful.

They talked animatedly, their topics of conversation varying from which substance would be most effective in removing wine from linen, to which name would suit Arthur best if he had been born a girl (they had settled on Ethel). Whilst they were giggling at the thought, a sharp knock interrupted their camaraderie. Gwen sighed and made her way to the front door of her cottage.

"Who is it?"

"It's Arthur," came a muffled response. Lighting up, Guinevere opened the door. Before she could say a word of greeting, Arthur leant in and kissed her passionately on the lips, using the doorframe to balance himself.

"I've been waiting to do that all day," Arthur grinned as he finally drew back and gazed at her intensely. He was pleased to see Gwen struggle to catch her breath before remembering to invite Arthur inside and offer him some refreshment.

"Sounds wonderful," Arthur smiled gratefully, realising he was rather peckish.

Entering her cottage, he stopped short and blinked at the sight of Merlin slurping at his soup. Merlin gave Arthur a small wave, his face annoyingly cheerful, before returning to his bowl.

"What are you doing here?" Arthur asked him incredulously.

"What does it look like? I'm eating."

"But…I gave you the night off."

"I know," Merlin replied casually. "And I'm spending it with Gwen."

"But that's what I- that was the point-" Arthur spluttered, looking to Guinevere for assistance. She shrugged with a smile and proceeded to prepare another bowl for Arthur.

Merlin continued to consume his soup; Arthur's pointed glare boring into the top of his head. Unable to concentrate fully on his meal, Merlin sighed and dropped his spoon with a clatter, finally looking up at his master.

"Do you want me to leave?" Merlin asked.

"Yes."

"No, don't be silly!"

Arthur and Gwen spoke simultaneously, Arthur's response causing Gwen to shoot him a disapproving look.

"Of course not, Merlin," she insisted. "You haven't finished your meal." Gwen noticed that Merlin's bowl was nearly empty. "Would you like a little more? There's plenty left."

"Yes please, Gwen." Merlin eagerly held out his bowl, ignoring Arthur's scowls from across the room.

"You'd better enjoy this while it lasts, Merlin," Arthur mused later when they had settled down, chewing his piece of bread rhythmically. "There's no chance of this happening when Guinevere moves into the castle." Tossing an effortless smile in Gwen's direction, his rhythm faltered as he noticed her uneasy expression.

Noticing a shift in the atmosphere, Merlin glanced between his two friends as they played with their spoons and avoided each other's gazes. He was aware that at some point Arthur and Gwen would have to address this matter properly, but right now Merlin could not bear to watch them quarrel. Frantically looking around the room for a distraction, Merlin finally settled on the clothes he had seen Gwen sewing earlier before he had interrupted her.

"What are you making?" Merlin asked reaching out to the kitchen counter to grab it. Unfolding it, he revealed the small sleeping garment Gwen had been creating for her friend's newborn. Arthur – who had been silently gulping down his ale in an attempt to overlook Gwen's obvious discomfort at his earlier comment – choked at the sight of the item of clothing.

"T-that's a little early don't you think?" Arthur stuttered once the coughs had subsided. Though he tried to remain cool, the flush creeping up Arthur's neck betrayed him. Snatching the cloth from Merlin's grasp, Guinevere too fought to keep a blush from spreading across her face. "I mean, not that we won't…I definitely want-"

"This is for a friend," Gwen cut him off hastily and stuffed the garment under her pillow. "Though maybe I could. For when we- I mean, if we ever..."

Assessing that babbling was preferable to the tense silence there had been before – and that Arthur now had a weird glint in his eye – Merlin decided to leave them to it. Thanking Gwen for the meal, he made his way back to Gaius' cabin.

* * *

Since Mordred had removed her visions of Agravaine, Morgana had enjoyed uninterrupted sleep. In fact, she had had rather pleasant dreams. Most of them featured Mordred himself, standing by her side and helping her to regain control of Camelot once again. Morgana had tried to contact him repeatedly after he had helped her, but it was proving difficult. She did not know whether Mordred's plan had been to aid her like she had him in the past and move on with his debt repaid. All Morgana knew was that she felt safe now he had helped her and that she needed Mordred near her. Closing her eyes tightly, Morgana attempted once more to connect with Mordred. It shocked her to hear his voice almost instantly.

_I'm here._

Scrambling to her feet, Morgana rushed to the door and flung it open expectantly. It was his eyes that gave him away. If it were not for those pale blue, almost grey eyes staring nervously back at her she would never have recognised him. Mordred's brown hair had grown out to his shoulders and he was taller; just a little taller than Morgana herself. The turquoise cloak he favoured no longer trailed across the floor, but instead hung across his broader shoulders. Sure he was now on the brink of manhood and with eyes that knew a great deal more than they should, but he was still Mordred. To Morgana, he was the same Druid boy that Merlin had dragged into her room four years ago.

"Morgana?" Mordred shifted uncomfortably, imploring silently with her to accept him. Giggling sharply in uncontainable delight, she wrapped her arms tightly around him, noticing him shiver under her embrace. She felt his arms snake around her and hold her just as tight. Stepping back, Morgana held his shoulders and beamed at him. He grinned back, his body unsure what to do with itself under unfamiliar emotions.

"Mordred." Morgana breathed, surveying him once again. "You've come back to me."

* * *

Merlin groaned, burying his head into his uncomfortable pillow in a bid to lessen the dull thud in his head. Gauis had returned to Camelot that afternoon and the dinner Merlin had prepared to welcome him back had not been as celebratory as he had hoped. Instead it had been a silent affair in which Merlin could barely swallow a mouthful due to the headache he had developed. Deciding to turn in early, Merlin bid his guardian goodnight and tried to fall asleep, but it was virtually impossible.

Feeling bile creep up his throat, Merlin jumped out of bed, stumbled down the stairs and outside in order to heave the contents of his empty stomach. Leaning against the wall of Gauis' hut, Merlin breathed in heavily as he watched Gaius approach him, his faced etched with concern. Even under the glow of the moon, Gauis could see that Merlin was far paler than he normally was. Gently placing a hand on Merlin's clammy forehead, he checked for signs of fever and determined it was not the cause of Merlin's discomfort.

"Merlin are you ok?"

"Something's wrong, Gaius. I can feel it." Merlin gasped quickly, trying to explain the way he had been feeling for some time. "It's like there's this pressure…inside my head. I can't-" He broke off as his head pounded incessantly.

"Calm down, Merlin," Gaius soothed, supporting the young man's weight despite the height difference.

"There's something here," Merlin continued regardless, allowing himself to be steered back into the cabin. "I could feel it, _something_ – before…But now it's here." Merlin rubbed his forehead vigorously. "It's too much." Gaius eyed him worriedly.

"Do you think it could be magic?"

"It can't be anything else," Merlin answered as he shook his head, his expression haunted. "And it's stronger than I've ever felt, Gaius. It's too strong."

* * *

So Emrys was still here, Mordred thought to himself as he withdrew from the barriers of Merlin's mind. Morgana was sound asleep on her bed and as Mordred watched her, latent anger welled up inside him. It pained him to see what she had been reduced to. Mordred's relief at seeing Morgana happy at his return had overshadowed his initial shock at the state of her living conditions. Now Mordred had a chance to really look around he was horrified. The Morgana he remembered could have been a princess; regal and compassionate. No doubt she was as beautiful as Mordred remembered, even more so, but that beauty was hidden under rags and resentment. Morgana was now being forced to live in a house barely fit for an animal whilst Arthur sat upon the throne that he clearly did not deserve.

Morgana had told him of all she had suffered at the hands of the Pendragons. The lies and deceit she had endured over the years were unfathomable. What was it about Arthur that was so special? Even Emrys, the sorcerer who was meant to bring magic back to Camelot, had betrayed his own kind in support of the young King. The reality was Mordred would do anything to protect Morgana from anyone who hurt her - and Arthur had hurt her. So Mordred would make him hurt.


	3. Chapter 3

The wedding was in two weeks and still Arthur had not confronted Guinevere about their living arrangements after the ceremony. She knew he wanted to, as Gwen often caught Arthur staring at her; his face troubled as if unsure what to say next. If she caught his eye he would clam up and crack jokes as if nothing had happened. Gwen hated herself for finding it so difficult to move on. It was as if even in death, Agravaine was still managing to affect her life.

This was not Guinevere's only worry, however, for it dawned on her that soon she would have to become someone worthy of reverence. After all her years as a servant, Gwen had come to believe that she mattered less than other people – it was a way of life she had accepted without question. As much as she loved Arthur, Gwen had never imagined she would become Queen; everything had been against the two of them as a couple from the start. Now their relationship was at a level Guinevere could not comprehend and the future scared her. Although she had become more confident in addressing members of the court, Gwen knew once they were married she would have to let people do things for her and face people she had once served as their monarch. Truth be told, Guinevere did not know if she was strong enough, and if she could not convince herself, how could she convince the people of Camelot?

These uncertainties continued to plague Gwen as Arthur walked her back home after a luncheon with the nobles. His voice cut through the silence, disrupting her thoughts.

"You don't want to move into the castle do you?" It was early evening and the lack of light meant that it was hard to read his expression. Still, Gwen was sure that Arthur had surprised himself with his outburst.

"Of course I do." Gwen said simply, continuing to walk even though Arthur had slowed his pace. Arthur took her by the hand, forcing her to stop and led her to a quiet corner of the pathway. Under the light of a street torch, Guinevere was alarmed to see Arthur look so defeated.

"Guinevere, I know you hate being in my room." Arthur pressed on. "I don't blame you, sometimes I don't even want to be there…when I think of-" He broke off and shook his head as if to clear it. "There's dozens of chambers in the castle we can use. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable in what's meant to be your home." Gwen shook her head fiercely.

"Arthur, you have no idea how much you've helped me over the past few months. Every moment I spend there with you makes me remember why I loved being there in the first place. If you move out because of him…it'll be as if he's won."Arthur frowned, taking in her words.

"I understand that, but what can else can I do? Do you want to delay the wedding a little more?" As he said this his face turned a little grey.

"No! Arthur, I want to marry you with all my heart; we've waited long enough. It's just…it's not wholly about the room." Arthur gave her a puzzled look before bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it gently.

"I want you to feel like you can talk to me about anything, Guinevere," he said softly. "And now we're getting married, I don't want us to have any secrets from each other. Tell me what's wrong." As he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, Gwen felt the fears she had been agonizing about spill out of her.

"You don't know how strong you are, Guinevere." Arthur told her when she had finally paused for breath. "In all the time I've known you, you have been loyal, intelligent and an asset to Camelot. The people love you – even more so because you understand them better than anyone could. And I love you. You make me stronger."

"I just don't want to disappoint them, Arthur." Gwen eyes shone with unshed tears. "I don't want to disappoint you."

"That's impossible." Arthur replied, looking at her intently to make sure she knew he meant it. She believed him. Wrapping his arm around her waist, they continued to walk back to Gwen's cabin in comfortable silence before Arthur spoke again. She could hear a hint of a smile in his voice.

"So you're ok with moving into the castle?" Gwen looked up at him and nodded in response.

"How about tonight?" Arthur waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Gwen could not help but laugh.

"I just need these two weeks to prepare myself…can you give me that?"

"You don't have to change, Guinevere, I hope you understand that." Arthur said seriously. "But yes I can wait. As long as it takes." They soon approached Gwen's front door

"Do you want to come inside?" As Arthur was about to answer in the affirmative, a loud yawn escaped from his mouth, shocking them both.

"Actually I'm a little tired, I think I might get an early night." Arthur smiled ruefully. "Lord Boris just doesn't know how to end an anecdote." Kissing her softly on the lips and then on the forehead he made his way down the path before stopping abruptly and swinging around. Gwen looked back at him questioningly.

"Actually, there was something else I wanted to talk to you about. Why does Merlin keep calling me Ethel?"

* * *

_The turrets of Camelot gleamed in the sunlight. He looked on them proudly from the courtyard; this was his home. His kingdom. Hearing excited whispers, he looked around to see some of the servants' children approaching several guards from behind. The guards pretended not to notice until the last minute, turning around and growling, sending the children giggling back to their starting positions._

_Past the gates to the citadel, he could see the villagers trading their wares at the market. He loved it at this time of day; the city felt truly alive. He remembered how during his younger years, he would often manage to steal an apple from the traders and eat it just in time for supper. He turned back to the castle, noting how sunny it was for this time of year. He could see waves of heat rising of the solid stone of the castle, turning the building almost orange with colour. He frowned as he realised it was a little too off-colour._

_Before he could investigate a panicked shout from the market alerted him to the sudden shift in atmosphere. Running towards the gates he saw the stalls that had been fine a moment ago were on fire. Immediately there was chaos and screaming as villagers tried to escape the burning flames. To his dismay, the gates suddenly locked down, separating him from the traders. The villagers pounded on the gates, crying and begging to be let inside the inner city._

" _Hold on!" He found himself yelling, pulling at the lever as hard as he could. It wouldn't budge. He pulled again and again, becoming increasingly desperate, his face dripping with sweat, but there was no release. Looking back up at the people, the fear in their eyes tore his heart in two._

" _I'll get help," he promised, pleading with them to try and keep calm. He was their king, he would save them. It was his duty._

_Turning back to the castle, the vision that awaited him shook him to the core. The castle no longer stood proud and invincible; bright orange flames surrounded the citadel, reducing its enviable beauty to nothing more than ruins. Struggling to breathe through the acrid smoke, he could only emit a strangled moan as people from the castle jumped from windows to escape the flames. Glancing back at the market he was horrified to see charred bodies leaning against the gates, trying to save themselves even in death. Everything was moving too fast – he could not think; he could not breathe._

" _Every moment you wait is another death under your rule."_

_The voice that echoed through his head was harsh and indifferent to the destruction it had obviously witnessed. Trying to ignore it, he saw one of the children he had seen playing earlier crying in a corner of the courtyard and made his way quickly towards her. He was only a few paces away when one of the castle's turrets came crashing down on her fragile body. He stumbled back, too stunned to scream. He could only see her legs twitch beneath the stone as life ebbed away from her broken body. Only then did he scream. This could not be real, yet he could feel the heat – like his bones were on fire themselves._

" _Camelot is doomed. Cursed with a King too pathetic to be of any value."_

_The voice was right, he was useless. He could not move. Fire and death surrounded him – suffocating him mercilessly. All he could do was cry as he watched his beloved kingdom burn._

* * *

Mordred took in haggard breaths from his hiding place in the castle, trying to suppress the elated feeling in his chest. It had worked better than he had hoped – it was almost too real. Since Mordred needed to be in closer proximity to connect with people who did not possess magic, he had broken in through a locked side-entrance and found himself somewhere near the palace kitchens. Mordred would have chuckled to himself had it not been for the difficulty he was having breathing. The vision had really taken it out of him and Mordred was sure he would have to hold off from using magic for a good few hours. It was worth it though; just to see Arthur's desperation was reward in itself. Watching him fall apart under his own torment was a bonus Mordred would enjoy immensely.

Deciding it was time to make his way home – because being with Morgana did feel like home to him – Mordred slipped out of the castle as silently as he had entered.

* * *

"This is stupid," Merlin muttered to himself as he scrubbed the floors of Arthur's chamber for the sixth time that day. It was not as if Arthur was a child. Usually when Arthur went missing – in this case for half the day – Merlin took it as a sign the King wanted to be left alone and revelled in the free time. However this time, Merlin had seen the state of Arthur's bedroom that morning and it had frightened him.

Initially, Merlin had been surprised to see Arthur out of his room so early. Therefore it took a few seconds for him to gauge something was very wrong. The bed looked like it had been wrestled with, not just slept in – but that was not what troubled the young sorcerer the most. The air stunk of sweat and fear and pain; Merlin was sure if the room could talk it would be screaming. There was something else too; an aura, both familiar and alien, but certainly not Arthur.

Merlin had spent most of the morning searching for him, covering for Arthur when members of the court asked where he was. In the end, he had alerted Gwen and the knights that Arthur had gone missing, playing down the seriousness of the situation. He did not want to worry anyone since Merlin was almost certain it was his magic that caused him to sense the change in the room anyway.

Throwing down the scrubbing brush with resignation, Merlin knew he was not going to get those emotions out of the room with soap. He needed to cleanse it with magic. As if Arthur's bedchambers had not been through enough already, Merlin thought bitterly to himself.

* * *

Arthur sat in a corner of the tavern nursing his ale with the hood of his cloak pulled up. He had spent the day walking, trying to stop himself from reliving the dream he had had the night before, but it was pointless. It was his every thought. He had finally ended up at his manservant's favourite hangout, though he had donned a black cloak in an attempt to conceal himself. The only person who knew he was here was the barman, who instinctively saw Arthur wanted to be alone and was discreet about his presence. The constant chatter of the jolly drinkers did not affect Arthur; it was white noise to him.

Signalling for another tankard to be brought over to his table, Arthur thought back to the burning flames of the kingdom he governed. He could still feel the smoke burning up his lungs. It could not have been a dream – it had seemed so real. He had been there, he was certain of it. Maybe it was a vision; an omen of things to come. Arthur had always believed he would never be the strong King his father once was and this confirmed it. He finished his ale in time for his next one to reach the table.

"Ah, so this is where our monarch is hiding?" Arthur looked up to see Gwaine grinning down at him. Without waiting for a response, he pulled up a chair and signalled to the barkeep for a pint of ale.

"Merlin and Gwen were looking for you, you know." Arthur ignored him and went back to staring at his drink, watching as the bubbles rose through the liquid gold and burst on the surface.

"Ah, enjoy it while it lasts Arthur," Gwaine maintained. "Soon you won't be able to enjoy a pint in peace with the wife and kids waiting at home." Gwaine winked, waiting for Arthur to retort back as he usually did – he did not. Deciding his friend just needed a little push in the direction of humour, Gwaine continued to tease him.

"Tell you what, how about I take Gwen off your hands for you. Then you can drink whenever-"

"Aren't you meant to be on patrol, Gwaine?" Arthur glared at him, breaking his silence. "For once in your life why don't you get off your arse and do some work."

Gwaine blinked at him in surprise.

"Arthur, I was only joking..."

"Of course you were. Because everything's a joke to you." Arthur knew he should stop, but the fear he had felt as he saw Camelot fall had a tight grip on him. "You're a knight, Gwaine, why don't you start acting like one. The citadel is not going to patrol itself; it needs its knights to do their job and protect it. So why don't you move? That's an order from your King."

Arthur refused to meet Gwaine's eye, knowing the knight would be trying and failing to conceal his hurt. Finally, he heard Gwaine's chair scrape back.

"As you wish, sire," Gwaine stood up and mock bowed, before leaving the tavern. The people around had taken in the bow and noticed the man in the corner did look remarkably like King Arthur. Realising it was time to leave; he gulped down the remainder of his pint and headed out into the mild spring dusk, unaware of the triumphant pair of blue eyes watching him leave.

* * *

Morgana paced her small room, anxiously awaiting Mordred's return. He had been so secretive about where he was heading that afternoon, only telling Morgana that he had a surprise for her. It was now late evening and the quiet knock on the door told her that Mordred had finally returned. Ushering him inside, Morgana closed the door before enveloping Mordred in a tight hug.

"You should have at least told me where you were going. Arthur's on a witch-hunt for me and those loyal to me," Morgana scolded, though she could not be entirely angry with him. The past few days had been the happiest she had had in a long while. Though Mordred could be a little intense at times, Morgana appreciated having someone to talk to from her past, before she had been reduced to her current situation.

"Not anymore," Mordred replied, his face still flushed from her hug. "I don't think the King's fit to do anything now."

Morgana looked up at him curiously.

"What do you mean? What did you do?"

"I altered his mind," Mordred grinned. "Made him believe that the kingdom will perish under his reign. Nobody could withstand the dreams I created for him without being driven to madness."

"How do you know it will work?" Morgana asked quickly, trying to contain her hope at the prospect of soon returning to the castle.

"It's already begun. I've done this many times before." Mordred replied confidently, brushing off her doubt. "He's isolated and scared. Camelot will fall around him."

"Why not just kill him and be done with it?" Morgana urged impatiently. "You have the power to finish him off."

"Where's the fun in that?" Mordred replied hurriedly, taking her hand in his. Morgana looked back at him uncertainly. "After all you've had to suffer; surely it wouldn't hurt to play with him a little? Make him feel the pain he's caused you." Mordred's eyes were shining with reassurance. Morgana nodded tentatively and started to withdraw her hand from Mordred's, but he held on tight.

"I'd do anything for you, Morgana." He said earnestly, holding her gaze. Without hesitation Mordred sealed the gap between them and placed his lips upon hers, catching Morgana by surprise.

"Mordred! No!" She broke away from him, inadvertently pushing him hard against the table. Mordred stumbled to catch his balance, his face turning scarlet with embarrassment.

"I-I'm sorry…I thought-"

"You thought wrong Mordred." Morgana cut in shakily. "You know I love you, but…you're like a brother to me."

"But I'm not!" Mordred persisted, trying to reach out again for her hand, but she evaded him. "Morgana I've thought of nothing but you for four whole years. I'd do anything for you. I love you."

"Oh Mordred," Morgana replied with a sad smile. "I'm not sure you truly know what love is yet. Especially not that kind. You're just a boy."

Mordred's face paled.

"I'm not a boy!" He shouted indignantly.

"Yes you are," Morgana continued gently. "Everything seems more significant when you're young. When you grow up, you'll see these feelings you have now aren't real. I'm the only woman you know, Mordred." The pity in her eyes did not go unnoticed by Mordred. Angry tears clouded his vision; though whether they were for the expression on Morgana's face or for his own misjudged actions was still unclear.

"I'm not a boy." Mordred repeated, his voice trembling as he ran out of the hut.

"Mordred!" Morgana called after him. Staring out through the open door to her shack, she looked anxiously around the dark forest for him, but he had vanished into the night air.


	4. Chapter 4

Stepping out of the tavern's warm bustle and into the cool night air, Merlin surveyed the area, wondering where his friend had disappeared to. Gwaine had somewhat sourly told him Arthur was at the tavern and the barman had confirmed it, informing Merlin the King had left only a short while ago. Sighing to himself, Merlin proceeded to search around the inner city, willing Arthur to appear before the morning came and people really began to worry.

Prepared to head back to the castle and search its rooms again, Merlin was turning towards home when he heard a low moan some distance behind him. Tentatively following the sound, Merlin finally spotted his friend – who would have been almost unrecognisable in the light of day. Arthur lay shivering under an empty cart stuck in a ditch; his face caked with mud. Under normal circumstances Merlin would have been able to laugh at him, but being witness to his friend reach yet another low point in his life was anything but humorous. Merlin had never seen anyone look so pitiful.

"Arthur." Merlin said quietly. Arthur, who had been staring vacantly at the ground around him, looked up.

"Merlin?" he breathed; his eyes bloodshot and unfocused. Even from a distance Merlin could detect the ale on his breath.

"Come on, let's get you back to the castle," Merlin muttered as he held out his hand for Arthur to pull himself up. Arthur gripped it tightly and stumbled as he tried to find his feet, causing him to put his arm around Merlin for support. They started the slow and silent journey back to the castle before Arthur mumbled something Merlin did not catch.

"What?" Merlin pressed, adjusting the arm under Arthur's armpits.

"Don't tell Gwen you found me like this." Arthur repeated quietly. Merlin glanced at him, taking in the shame evident on the young monarch's face.

"Arthur, she wouldn't care. All she would want to know is that you're all right." They had entered the castle now and Merlin was steering them back to the King's chambers.

"Please."

"Ok," Merlin shrugged. They reached Arthur's bedroom and as Merlin pushed open the door, he could feel the King begin to shake against him and edge away from the entrance.

"Hey, Arthur it's ok," Merlin soothed, trying to calm him. Arthur looked back at him with a face so full of childlike fear, Merlin felt tears prick his eyes. "I've cleaned the room. It's alright. It's safe." He slowly entered, signalling that it was indeed safe to return. Arthur surveyed the room cautiously before following him in, satisfied that the unnerving and suffocating presence he had awoken to in the early hours of the morning was no longer there.

Merlin watched as Arthur sat down on the bed and resumed staring vacantly into the middle distance. What had done this to him? Merlin was burning with questions he needed to ask Arthur, but he doubted his friend was lucid enough to hold a proper conversation. Whatever it was, Merlin could not help but feel a white hot rage well up inside him. He was almost certain the magic he had encountered the other night was the same as the one he had detected in Arthur's room. Someone obviously wanted to hurt Arthur and seemed unafraid of flaunting their powers in Camelot.

Moving forward, Merlin carefully helped Arthur into his bedclothes, staying silent as the young monarch obediently lifted his arms when appropriate. Carefully removing Arthur's shoes and tucking him in, Merlin blew out the bedside lamp and made his way out of the room. No doubt Arthur was exhausted, considering he had barely slept last night.

"Why do you believe in me?" Although it was barely a whisper, Arthur's voice rang out in the darkness, bringing Merlin to a halt in the doorway. Confused, Merlin turned back to look at his King, but it was impossible to read Arthur's face in the gloom.

"Because you are noble and good…and honest – when you choose to tell us what you're thinking." Merlin replied frankly. "And because you are my friend." There was silence for a moment as Arthur digested his response.

"But what if I fail to rule Camelot as strongly as my father once did?" Merlin bit back the answer he wanted to give to Arthur's question. He wanted to say that Uther was not a strong King; far from it. That he was weak, cowardly and that it was Arthur who would bring greatness to Camelot and all of Albion. Merlin only realised he had not voiced any opinion when he heard quiet snores coming from Arthur's bed.

"You can't live your life measuring yourself up against Uther." Merlin said softly. On that note, the young sorcerer decided to leave the King to his much needed rest.

* * *

That night Mordred had run until his feet ached, cursing himself for the events that had taken place earlier that evening. He was mortified. How could he have been so stupid? Of course it was too soon to have told Morgana of his feelings. He should have waited until he had made her see that she could not live without him – until she could finally admit that she loved him too. How could Morgana think he was a boy? After everything he had done for her? Mordred then winced as he remembered how he had cried in front of her, giving her ample evidence of his immaturity.

It was now morning and Mordred had finally found his way back among the villagers of Camelot. He took no notice of the strange looks he received from those around him, due to his unkempt appearance. He was focused on the plan he had fabricated whilst trying to get as far away from Morgana as possible. Even though they had spent so much time apart, it seemed Morgana still thought of him as the boy he had once been. Mordred knew that if he was going to change her perception of him, he was going to have to prove that he was strong and a man capable of giving Morgana the love she desired. Mordred could feel her calling out to him even now but he ignored it. He was not ready to face Morgana just yet; mainly because he was too embarrassed. No, only when Mordred had fully established himself as a spy in Camelot – a capable and mature spy – would he go back to the woman he longed for.

First he needed to find a knight. Fortunately, at that moment in time, it was not a difficult task. The King appeared to have greatly increased defence measures on the streets of Camelot. Mordred smothered a smirk at the effect his web of dreams must have had on the young monarch. Still, now was not the time to revel in past glories. He uttered a quick spell and felt his appearance change slightly, his eyes transforming from the unsettling blue to a deep brown.

Around the corner, a tall knight with sandy blonde hair appeared, his face etched with worry and his hand poised above where his sword was sheathed. Mordred did not think he looked particularly bright, but perhaps that was just what he needed. What confirmed Mordred's target was that he was alone. Spying a villager nearby clutching an axe, Mordred moved fast to occupy his mind. The man's eyes widened as he felt himself involuntarily run at a knight of Camelot with the axe raised above his head. He would never have guessed the boy standing innocently by a nearby well was controlling his every movement.

* * *

Sir Leon walked around the village, unsure what exactly he was looking for. All Arthur had told him and the other knights was that they had to be on their strictest guard. It was actually quite troubling the lengths their King had gone to; hiring guards with barely enough training to patrol seemed unwise to Leon. It was the act of a desperate man. Chiding himself for daring to doubt Arthur, Leon failed to notice the approaching danger.

"Look out!" He heard a yell from behind. With barely enough time to spin around, a dark figure collided with Leon, pushing him to the ground with extreme force. Winded, he looked up to find himself staring into the eyes of a young boy.

"I'm so sorry, sir, that man was trying to attack you." He explained breathlessly, clambering back onto his feet. Finally able to stand, Leon was shocked to see two guards holding back one of the villagers, while an axe lay conspicuously on the ground by their feet.

"This man just came at you with the axe, sir," one of the guards confirmed. "The boy pushed you out of the way just in time. He could have been on the receiving end of that blade!"

Leon cast his eye over the young boy who had saved him. He was so distinctly unremarkable; it was hard to imagine he had managed to push a knight aside so courageously. Especially since the boy was still struggling to catch his breath.

"Thank you stranger. What is your name and how can I repay you?"

"Myrddyn, sir. But I only wanted to help," the boy replied quietly, cowering as if in awe of nobility.

"Nonsense," Leon shook his head dismissively. "There's no need for modesty. You saved my life and that warrants reward." The boy looked up hopefully.

"Well…"

"Go on," Leon urged encouragingly. The boy cast his eyes down, inspecting the dirt beneath his feet with immense concentration.

"My master has not long been dead. He was good to me and now I have no job and no home." The boy looked up at Leon wistfully. "It would be an honour to give my services to one as noble as a knight of Camelot."

"You want to become my servant?" Leon frowned. "Perhaps I might tempt you with gold instead?"

"Forgive my candidness; gold has but a short life span. I desire the security and consistency that employment can offer me. Do you understand?"

"Of course, it's an admirable request. But I don't have much need for servants." As the words left Leon's mouth, he immediately felt differently. Of course he needed a servant! How had he managed without one? In fact, no one but the boy standing before him would do.

"Fine, I will grant you your wish. You may serve me." Leon obliged, shaking his head to clear the cloudiness that had just occupied it. "You can accompany me on my patrol and I will tell you what is required of you."

"Please! Sir Leon. I didn't…I don't-" The villager was struggling against the guards who held him tightly, his face plastered with confusion.

"Take him away." Leon said quietly, still perplexed by what had just occurred. Maybe Arthur was right. People did not just try to attack a knight of Camelot in broad daylight for no reason. Leon was going to have to keep a more vigilant eye over the kingdom from now on.

* * *

Gwen surveyed the citizens of Camelot as they bustled around the marketplace, darting anxious glances at the guards watching their every move. In the short period since Arthur had gone missing for the best part of a day, the security in Camelot had reached new heights. There were now guards on every street corner, at a ratio that almost met the amount of people in the kingdom. Gwen feared that rather reassure the people of Camelot that they were safe, it only served to worry them further.

Journeying towards Gauis' cabin, Gwen tried to hide her hurt at the fact that, once again, Arthur was keeping things from her. It felt like the promise they had made not too long ago to share things with each other was already crumbling into nothing. Gwen knew Arthur did not want to burden her with his troubles – he had been so used to dealing with problems by himself in the past, but they were meant to be getting married in a week. It was her duty to protect him just as much as he did her. Last time, Merlin had managed to step in and make Arthur see sense, but even her friend had become sullen and withdrawn in the past few days.

Perhaps that was why Gaius had been requesting her help recently. Gwen was surprised a few days ago when the physician had asked for her assistance in creating healing potions for the villagers. Considering she knew very little about the components needed in his concoctions, Gwen was a very odd choice indeed. Nevertheless, she had gone and helped and was actually enjoying the time she spent with Gaius. Often they would end up talking about court protocols and traditions while they produced the mixtures. It was something Gwen was always familiar with, seeing as she had worked in the castle most of her life, but felt she needed complete understanding of as an imminent Queen. With each new fact she acquired, Gwen could feel her confidence as the future sovereign grow. To her, knowing the history of the kingdom she was set to govern was important: not just to help understand her people, but to learn from past mistakes.

* * *

The King had spent most of the day half-listening to complaints from some of Camelot's traders. As if Arthur did not have more important issues to deal with, now he had to handle petty disputes about trading space as well. Arthur had previously been worried about how Gwen was coping with her doubts about her suitability as Queen. He had discreetly asked Gaius to watch over her and help her become more accustomed to the situations she would soon be faced with. Thankfully the physician had reported that Gwen seemed much more comfortable about what was expected of her. It sometimes puzzled Arthur that Guinevere could not see how special she was, but he was glad that her belief in herself was only getting stronger. Still, no matter what else happened in Camelot, what was always there, playing in the back of Arthur's mind was the dream he had had. It haunted him.

Groaning to himself, Arthur remembered how he had treated Gwaine in the tavern following his vision. He had embarrassed himself. Arthur thought back to one of the first times Guinevere had confronted him about his attitude. 'A good king should respect his people, no matter who they are'. Well he had failed that spectacularly. He had been rude and discourteous towards Gwaine and Arthur was not proud of himself for it. How had Uther managed to stay on top of things in Camelot? Deciding perhaps some inspiration was needed, Arthur excused himself from the court and made his way over to his father's study.

Since Uther's death, Arthur had not stepped into this room – it was too hard. Taking a haggard breath, Arthur approached his father's desk and absentmindedly stroked the ornate wood, his fingertips covered in the thin layer of dust that had accumulated in the past few months. Arthur sat down in Uther's old chair – it loomed over him, reminding him of the huge boots he had to fill. Sighing to himself, curiousness overtook Arthur as he opened one of the desk drawers, rifling through the papers. Everything in there was outdated, as Arthur had expected. It had been a long time since Uther had been involved in any matters of state – Morgana had seen to that. As he began to close the drawer, his name, written on a small parchment in his father's handwriting, caught his eye.

Arthur faltered. Why would Uther have written something and not given it to him? Drawing it out from the pile of papers it had been hastily stuffed into, Arthur began to read. It took a while for him to make sense of the letter – in fact, Arthur had read it four times before the words finally sunk in. Letting out the breath he had been unaware he was holding, Arthur dropped the letter back on the desk as if he had been scalded. He needed to get out of there.

* * *

Merlin walked hurriedly down the corridor of the castle, carrying the lunch he had prepared for Arthur back to the kitchens – it turned out the King was not in his chambers and therefore would not be requiring a midday meal. As he tried not to bash into the people heading in the opposite direction, he suddenly felt a cold sensation wash over him. Merlin knew immediately it was the same he had felt in Arthur's room a few days ago. Searching frantically for the source, he saw a young man approaching him from the other end of the corridor, carrying a pile of knight's armour. As harmless as the boy looked, the dark power was emanating from him. Merlin shivered before walking over to him.

"Sorry, I don't think I know you…?" Merlin questioned casually, resisting the temptation to protect himself with magic. The boy looked defiantly back at him, his large brown eyes unlike the cowered ones staff usually had as they paraded through the castle.

"I don't think so," the boy replied slowly. "Sir Leon has just employed me. Excuse me; my master is waiting for me now." He skirted around Merlin and continued to walk down the corridor. Merlin watched as he left, willing the boy to turn back around – he did not. Shoving the plate of food into a passing servant's empty hands, he apologised profusely before running back to Gauis' cabin.

"Gaius!" He yelled as he entered, breathless from his sprint. "It's Leon's servant – that's who I felt that night!"

"Slow down!" Gaius frowned. "Now tell me slowly; what are you talking about?"

"That night I felt someone in my head. I found him, Gaius. He's posing as Sir Leon's servant!"

"Are you sure?" Gaius questioned, raising a sceptical eyebrow. "I've seen him; he's just a boy."

"I'm positive," Merlin replied firmly. "I felt his power from across the room. We need to tell Arthur – and Leon."

"Merlin, what proof do you have apart from detecting his magic?" Gaius reasoned carefully. "You can't let anyone else know without revealing yours! Besides, I've heard he saved Sir Leon's life and this is his reward. I doubt they will listen to you." Merlin looked back at him in disbelief.

"He can't stay here! He's already got to Arthur somehow." Merlin argued. "And I don't even know what he's done, since Arthur has barely spoken to me lately! Look, he's dangerous and he needs to be stopped."

"Merlin, I know how frustrating it must be for you to keep everything secret, but this doesn't mean you can senselessly charge-"

"No you don't know! Merlin cut in angrily, the toll of the last few days evident in the dark circles under his eyes. "You don't know how frustrating, and infuriating and _senseless_ it is to hide magic that is ultimately keeping Camelot safe! I can't just sit back and do nothing again." Gaius watched as Merlin crumpled down into a chair and rested his head in his hands, breathing deeply. Gaius took the chair opposite him and waited patiently for Merlin to look back at him. Sensing Gaius' gaze, Merlin finally obliged and looked up.

"Keep watch over this servant, Merlin. That's all you and I can do. Once we get proof, he won't be able to hurt anyone."

"And as usual we'll be fixing the consequences instead of preventing the problem," Merlin replied curtly. Gaius looked on helplessly as Merlin stood up sharply and retreated into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Gaius said nothing. The boy was right after all.

* * *

"Arthur!" Gwen called out as she watched Arthur exit Uther's old chambers, but he was too fast and obviously preoccupied in his thoughts. Watching his retreating frame disappear around the corner, Gwen sighed despondently before slipping into the former King's room. The room was silent as always; the ajar door to the adjoining study the only evidence that someone had just been in there. Gwen walked through to Uther's study, her eye immediately drawn to the crumpled paper lying on the desk. Gwen hesitated for a moment before she sat down and began to read.

_Arthur._

_For every man, there will come a time when they have to make one of the hardest decisions of their life. I have always thought I would be prepared for that moment; that my position as a strong King would ready me for any challenge I would ever have to face. It never occurred to me that my role as a father would be the one put to the test._

_You once asked me whether your birth was the result of sorcery. All I can say is in that moment, the only thing that ran through my mind was the thought of losing you. It was a selfish act, and maybe that has always been the case. Maybe I am writing this because I can finally admit to myself that my desire for an heir – for you – resulted in the loss of my beloved wife. You are well within your rights to loathe me for keeping your mother from you and for lying to you. But no matter what you choose to take from this, one thing you cannot question is my love for you. I could never accept you abandoning me; that is why I lied. I lied because I love you._

_Seeing the damage Morgana has done to Camelot has opened my eyes to the immeasurable hurt I know I have caused you both. Whether you will ever come to forgive me, I do not know – but I fear it is too late for Morgana. Her hatred for me is evident in her actions, her words and in her eyes. Even if you choose never to acknowledge me, I hope you can at least see how magic continues to corrupt those who wield it. Morgana would never have been able to cause as much damage if she did not possess her powers. This is why I had to destroy_

The letter ended there and Gwen frowned as a memory of the past came back to her. She remembered walking into Uther's chambers a few months before his death in order to give him his supper. Gwen had been surprised to find Uther active and at his desk scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment. She had silently watched him as he paused and buried his head in his hands. After a moment, Uther had sat up again and shoved the piece of paper into his desk drawer. At the time, Gwen had been pleased he had found something to occupy him and connect him to the world again – now she knew what it was, she wished he had never started it. Carefully placing it back in the desk, Gwen could not think of a worse time for Arthur to have found out about his past. Knowing she had to find him immediately, she left the room and followed hastily in Arthur's footsteps.

* * *

Gwen discovered him kneeling with his back to her in front of Uther's shrine in a quiet area behind the castle. It was a place where Camelot's past monarchs were remembered. She stood a few paces behind him, suddenly wary that her presence might have disturbed his contemplation.

"He lied to my face," Arthur said quietly without turning around. "I asked him outright and he lied." Gwen did not answer, knowing that the pent-up emotion emanating from Arthur needed release.

"I put aside all my hurt and anger about him keeping Morgana from me because he needed me. You know, he didn't even give the letter to me." It was stuffed in the back of his drawer and forgotten. Something so important-" Arthur broke off and shook his head in disbelief.

"It feels like every time I build myself up, I get knocked down again. All this time I've felt guilty that my mother died giving birth to me. I've always questioned whether her sacrifice was worth it." Arthur laughed bitterly, his tone caked in unshed tears. "Turns out I'm not even meant to be here at all."

"Yes you are, Arthur," Gwen finally spoke, desperate to stop him hurting. She stood behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning her head on his shoulder. Arthur bowed his head, his voice barely audible.

"I've spent so long thinking I could never match up to him. And after all that happened, he still couldn't take responsibility for his actions during the purges. All those lives he ended and he still manages to excuse himself." Arthur's voice was tinged with such vivid resentment; Gwen could almost feel it drowning them both. "All the lies. He has done this. He is the reason Morgana is a constant threat to this kingdom. But it's all okay because he _loves_ me _._ "

"Don't act like that doesn't matter to you Arthur." Gwen responded gently. She could feel him stiffen under her embrace, but continued nonetheless. "I know you don't want to hear it now, and you don't even have to believe it, but you loved Uther. You still do. And knowing that he doesn't regret your birth means more to you than you would ever care to admit."

Arthur turned to stare at her; his gaze so intent Gwen began to feel maybe she had spoken out of turn. Finally he relaxed and turned back to the former King's headstone.

"I won't live my life measuring myself up against Uther. Arthur said softly, momentarily unsure where he had heard similar words before. His jaw clenched savagely through his next words. "I will never be like him."

"I know you won't. We all do. You have no idea the hope Camelot has with you as King. The faith your people have in you…" Gwen trailed off as Arthur's expression became clouded. It was the same haunted expression Gwen had seen plague him in the past few days. She decided she would finally speak up.

"Something else has been bothering you, Arthur. Before you discovered the letter." Surprisingly, Arthur answered almost immediately. Gwen could not help but feel something had changed inside her fiancé. He seemed more determined than ever. The resolve in Arthur's eyes was something only seen in the best of Kings.

"I had a dream a few nights ago. In it Camelot was falling and I could do nothing to stop it." Arthur paused, the memory making itself clear to him once again and leaving him short of breath. "It was all fire and destruction. It felt so real…" Gwen squeezed him tenderly in a bid to comfort him.

"You should have told me," she whispered.

"I know."

"Do you think it was a vision? Of things to come?"

"I don't know," Arthur shook his head anxiously. "That's what frightens me the most. I had no control in the dream, all I could do was watch the kingdom being torn apart."

"Well whatever happens, know that you don't have to face it alone." Gwen told him earnestly. "Merlin, your knights…we're all here for you. I'm here for you. And we're devoted to Camelot."

Clasping tightly the hands that were draped across his shoulders, Arthur stood up abruptly, lifting Guinevere up on his back in the process.

"Arthur!" Gwen hissed in shock as she tried to suppress her giggles. Try as she might, her feet did not touch the ground. Ignoring Gwen's protests, Arthur wrapped his arms around her legs and hoisted her up into a more stable position. He stood still for a moment, savouring the feel of Gwen's heartbeat pounding against his back. She had stopped struggling and seemed to accept that Arthur was not going to put her down any time soon. Resting her head on his shoulder once again, Gwen's breath gradually steadied as she became more relaxed. She closed her eyes, relishing the closeness between Arthur's heart and her own.

"I love you. You know that don't you?" Arthur murmured, breaking the silence.

"Yes." Gwen replied softly and Arthur proceeded to carry her back into the castle.

Whether the dream he had experienced was a sign of things to come, Arthur did not know. He hoped against it with all his heart, but Arthur knew that even if it did come to pass, he would never give up. Not when he had Guinevere by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to include the Uther stuff last minute since I didn't feel they addressed the truth of Arthur's birth enough in the show. I've always felt in order for this Arthur to become the King of legend, he had to stop comparing himself to his father. Throughout the series Arthur has been tied down by what Uther expects of him. I'm still waiting for that moment when Arthur truly sees how flawed his father was – hopefully in Series 5. Anyway, I've freed him here!


	5. Chapter 5

Mordred galloped unsteadily through the forest on his way to Morgana's hovel. He did not know why, but the instant Mordred had awoken there had been a sick feeling in his stomach. An overwhelming sense of foreboding. No matter how embarrassed he felt about his encounter with Morgana, he would never let her come to any harm. Besides, now he was fully ingrained in Leon's household and in Camelot, at least he had something to show for his absence.

Excusing himself from Leon's services under the guise he had a sick relative, Mordred had accepted the horse and condolences his master offered and rode off before the sun had time to rise. He just hoped he got to her in time.

* * *

"You want to hire who?" Merlin questioned, his mouth agape, certain he had mistaken his King's words completely. Arthur's impromptu decision to host a gala had initially puzzled Merlin. After all, they did have a wedding coming up in four days and if that was not the time to celebrate, Merlin did not know what was. But Arthur had been insistent, arguing it wouldn't be an extravagant affair – just something to lighten the mood in Camelot in time for the wedding. He had informed the citizens yesterday, announcing that it was to be held in the outdoor arena. The crowd had left buzzing with excitement, and although the presence of the guards patrolling the villages was still felt, somehow it was not quite as overbearing.

"The Caelohud," Arthur repeated casually, rifling through the papers on his desk. Merlin blinked, opening his mouth to say something and snapping it shut again when words failed him. Noticing the silence, Arthur looked up.

"Is that going to be a problem?"

"But Arthur...they're notorious for using magic in their acts." Merlin pointed out, before a thought occurred to him. "Is this because of the letter?"

Merlin had been nothing short of persistent in his efforts to find out what actually happened to Arthur the night he went missing. That, along with monitoring every move Leon's new servant made, occupied most of Merlin's time. Arthur had always ignored Merlin's attempts at interrogation – until two days ago. Waving away the question already on his manservant's lips, Arthur had silently handed over a letter for him to read.

"H-How did you find this?" Merlin had whispered, reading through Uther's letter again as a million thoughts swarmed around his head. Did this mean Arthur knew he had covered up for Uther?

"In his desk drawer," Arthur had replied calmly, but Merlin could detect a tinge of bitterness in his words. Reluctant to look up, Merlin continued to stare at the piece of parchment, the words becoming blurry under his scrutiny.

"I hope you know I don't blame you, Merlin," Arthur continued, watching his servant intently. Merlin finally looked up at his friend, the understanding and sincerity in the King's expression causing a lump to form in Merlin's throat. "For convincing me she was lying I mean. Morgause was hardly a trustworthy woman – and no doubt she had less than honourable intentions in revealing my father's secret. I probably would have done something incredibly stupid if you hadn't stopped me."

Merlin nodded silently, his heart thudding against his chest. Did Arthur suspect he knew more? Perhaps now was the time to reveal everything. The longer he kept his biggest secret away from his best friend, the harder it became to come clean – and the less likely it was that Arthur would forgive him. But there never seemed to be a right time; and Kilgharrah was always annoyingly selective about which parts of Merlin's 'destiny' was disclosed to him.

"This does not leave this room, Merlin, ok? No matter the situation of my birth, I was born in Camelot and that is the kingdom I will defend with my life. So let's just focus on the future."

Back then, Merlin had wondered what this revelation actually meant for Camelot's future. Would Arthur become more lenient towards magic, considering it was a part of his history? Or would he blame it for his shortcomings like Uther had so deftly done. Merlin could never have anticipated Arthur would decide to throw a party and invite sorcerers to entertain. The sound of Arthur's voice brought Merlin back to their current discussion.

"I can't deny the letter has played a part in my decision, but it's more than that," Arthur paused, struggling to explain his feelings. "In over 20 years, most of the encounters I've had with magic have been destructive. People using it for their own gain – to hurt other people. I just...I want to see the other side of it, Merlin. I need to see that magic doesn't just cause pain. And I think Camelot needs to see it too. Even if it is for something as frivolous as a gala."

Catching the overwhelming admiration in his manservant's eyes, Arthur sighed and rolled his own.

"It was only a suggestion. There's no guarantee they'll come anyway. Imagine someone willingly performing magic in Camelot!" He proceeded to push a tearful Merlin out of his study. "Oh for God's sake, just go and fetch Gaius for me will you?"

* * *

Morgana wandered around the forest, picking herbs for a sleep remedy she had run out of. Since Mordred had left, she had begun having unsettling dreams again. Thankfully, Agravaine did not feature in any of them, but Emrys did and that was somewhat worse. Morgana had given up hope of Mordred returning. He had not responded to any of her calls and she knew he heard them – she could feel him. Sighing to herself, Morgana headed back to her cabin, resigned to the reality that she had been abandoned once again and was destined to face Camelot alone.

Perhaps it was because Morgana had not encountered another human for so long, but it took her a good while before she realised she was not alone. In fact, it was only when she heard the crash of a clay pot on the floorboards that Morgana looked over from the table where she was setting down her findings. Morgana found herself staring into the eyes of a tall, bald, hulking man – obviously in the midst of rifling through her belongings and stuffing them into a burlap sack. To his credit, he looked equally stunned, but he recovered quickly, drawing a dagger out of his back pocket.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" He growled, dropping the sack and taking a step towards her. "There was I thinking this place was abandoned." He paused suddenly, the thug's face lighting up with recognition and delight. "Aren't you the Lady Morgana? My, my, you'll fetch a pretty penny – dead or alive. Maybe even a knighthood!" He advanced towards her, the dagger in his hand glinting menacingly. Morgana uttered a spell to disarm him and was unsurprised to see it have no effect. Her nightmares had been affecting her magic recently, leaving her feeling infuriatingly vulnerable.

Morgana froze, her plan to kick him when he came close enough already seeming stupid. Instead, a cloudy look came over the man's face momentarily, before he sent the knife plunging into his own heart. Bewildered, Morgana watched the man fall to the ground, only turning when she heard the door to her cabin creep open. There Mordred stood, leaning against the doorframe to steady himself; his face a little too white for Morgana's liking, but incredibly welcome.

"Mordred!" Morgana cried, joy transforming her face as it always did when he appeared before her. "I thought you would never come back!" She hugged him tightly, ultimately holding him up. Mordred returned it – taking care not to read too much into her actions since that was where he went wrong last time. Morgana then drew back and slapped him sharply across the face. That signal was a little easier to read.

"You say you love me and yet you leave without a word?" Morgana's voice was ice cold and Mordred shifted on the spot before shrugging in response, his expression one of discomfort and mild annoyance. Morgana knew he felt remorse, but had a feeling he would not be apologizing – his pride had already taken quite a beating when it came to Morgana. Deciding to let the issue go, she thanked him for saving her.

"Do you have any idea who this was?" He asked later as they dragged the corpse into the woods behind the hut.

"No. But he knew who I was. We're running out of time, Mordred."

After they had buried the body, they retreated back to the cabin for a meal of bread and soup. They talked about what had happened since their separation; Mordred informing her of his new position in Camelot and how he now had easy access to those Morgana wanted to destroy. All the while, they carefully avoided the reason for Mordred's departure in the first place, feeling it was best left forgotten. The sun began to set, making Mordred suddenly aware of the time.

"I'm sorry Morgana, I have to leave soon." Mordred announced, pulling a face. "The _gala_ is on tomorrow and I'm needed."

"Gala?" Morgana echoed, sure she had misheard him. "I thought Arthur was out of his mind?"

"I-he was. He is." Morgana saw Mordred's brows furrow as he tried to remember when he had last seen the king.

"You promised me," Morgana fumed. "You told me Arthur was on a path to self-destruction and instead he's throwing parties while you play servant!" She could sense Mordred becoming indignant at her attitude.

"I risked a lot for you, Morgana. It doesn't help having constant surveillance on me! One festival doesn't mean the King is back in control. The mind is a powerful weapon. All I need-"

"What you _need_ to do is separate Arthur from those around him – starting with Gwen."

"Gwen?" Mordred scoffed. "She's a maid! Whether Arthur marries her or not is irrelevant."

"And that day is coming soon! Mordred, you have no idea the change she has brought in him. I mean, he chose her over-" Morgana changed track as Mordred eyed her curiously. "…anyone else. Once she becomes Queen it's all over for us, I guarantee it."

"Let me handle this my way, Morgana," Mordred said, cutting her off when she tried to protest. "But I promise you there will be no wedding." He reached out a finger and lightly caressed Morgana's jaw, sending a shiver down her spine.

"No-one should be Queen but you."

At that moment, a precarious thought occurred to Morgana. Although she knew she would never be able to see Mordred in a romantic sense, perhaps having someone with considerable power devoted to her would not be so bad after all.

* * *

Gaius watched as the crowd settled into the stands, taking in the faces filled with anticipation.

"I can't deny I'm excited," Merlin claimed, sitting down next to his mentor. "It feels like it's been ages since Camelot did something like this."

"Hmm." Gaius responded vaguely. Merlin nudged him.

"Do you think the Caelohud will come? What did Arthur say to you anyway?"

The encounter with Arthur had been quick and somewhat painful, but Gaius had expected nothing less.

"You knew about Uther using magic to get me didn't you?" Arthur had been direct from the outset, leaving the old physician momentarily stunned. Merlin had said Arthur wanted to see him, but failed to tell Gaius the reason why.

"I-how? Yes, my lord."

"I suppose he made you swear an oath." Gaius nodded in response.

"So you had to sit by and watch as Uther slaughtered hundreds of people – some you no doubt thought of as friends," Arthur responded shaking his head. "All the while knowing there was no justification for it. I can only hope people are as loyal to me as you were to my father." Something about his tone told Gaius that this was not necessarily a compliment. The disappointment etched in the young King's face proved too much for the physician. Gaius bowed his head, his shoulders hunched.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," he mumbled. "If I knew what would happen- I'd never have- a sorceress...He was just so desperate for an heir – for you. We never- Ygraine...a wonderful queen..." Gaius became incoherent as he fumbled over his words, desperate to be anywhere else but in that room. He had been weak when it came to standing up to Uther. Sure, Gaius had helped people escape, but that number was overshadowed by those he had let go to their deaths. Gaius knew that if Merlin had been in his place, he would have tried harder to stop Uther – that was what made the boy so special.

"Gaius." The compassion evident in Arthur's tone nearly broke Gauis – it was something he did not deserve. "Gaius, look at me." The physician obeyed; his eyes milky with age and regret. "You have served this kingdom for many years. The number of lives you've saved – including mine – is immeasurable. I don't know if I could ever understand, but I don't believe punishment from me will surpass any you give yourself. Besides," Arthur stood up and moved to lean on the front of his desk. He towered over Gaius and the physician was acutely aware of the pity felt by the young monarch. Wordlessly, he waited for Arthur to continue. "I actually called you here for another reason."

Gaius listened carefully as Arthur told him of his intentions for the event. The Caelohud were a group of entertainers known throughout the kingdoms, who performed remarkable magic tricks. They were led by a sorcerer named Berwyn; a charming but impassive man who used to reside in Camelot until Uther's purge. After losing his wife under Uther's reign, Berwyn refused to give up magic, or accept Uther's attitude towards it. He formed the Caelohud; travelling from place to place, performing and ultimately undermining Uther's judgement. In over two decades they had managed to evade imprisonment, in spite of the lengths Uther had gone to catch them. Gaius was certain they would not risk coming out of hiding now just because Uther was dead.

"I'm not sure I can..." The words died on Gaius' lips as he sensed Arthur's desperation. It was obvious how important this was to the young king. "I'll try, my lord."

Gaius had used every link he had, knowing that whatever the outcome, it would be a turning point for the future of Camelot. Finally finding himself among the druids, Gaius made his request. Even if the message did get to them, there was no guarantee they would show up. There was nothing to do but wait.

"Nothing much." Gauis answered Merlin finally, watching Arthur talk animatedly to the group of guards standing behind him in the royal box. As if aware he was being watched, the King looked back at him and nodded briefly before continuing his conversation. Gaius let out the breath he had unconsciously been holding. The difference between Uther and his son hit Gaius with startling clarity. If it was because of magic, he would never be able to tell. But Gaius knew he was incredibly thankful for it.

* * *

The event had taken off without a hitch. Merlin watched distractedly as a variety of jugglers and jesters entertained the crowd, sending them into peals of laughter. Arthur had been careful to keep the mood fun and light-hearted – if the Caelohud failed to turn up, people would still leave satisfied.

It was nearing the time for the feast Arthur had scheduled and Merlin could see the King becoming restless. Accepting that the Caelohud would probably not be coming, Merlin slumped in his seat and watched a man breathe out a stream of fire. He applauded politely.

At that moment, Merlin noticed there were mutterings at the far corner of the arena. They travelled through the crowd until he picked up the words 'Caelohud'. It was time. There was hushed silence as a group of six men and one woman entered the arena, coming to a stop before Arthur and bowing courteously. Arthur inclined his head towards them, acknowledging their presence, but Merlin could see he was fighting hard to remain neutral about their appearance. People around them noted the exchange with confusion: surely the group should all be heading towards their deaths now?

A man sporting a shock of white-blond hair, who Merlin presumed was Berwyn, whispered a spell while his eyes flashed gold in the torchlight. Immediately, a circle of tiny men appeared; dancing furiously and sticking out their tongues at the audience. The people in the stands laughed nervously, unsure if they should be enjoying the performance. Soon the dwarves disappeared to be replaced by other illusions from the group. Flashing lights, unearthly shapes and dazzling spells occurred one after the other, extracting 'oohs' and 'ahhs' from the captivated audience.

Another whispered word from Berwyn and a group of chaffinches flew around the arena, singing the sweetest songs imaginable – songs of sorrow and joy woven into one melody. Merlin could not help but laugh as he closed his eyes to soak up the harmony. The crowd let out a collective sigh, reaching out to try and grab one of the tiny birds in an attempt to keep it for as long as possible. When the birds had finished their song, they too vanished as quickly as they had appeared, leaving the audience awaiting the next illusion with bated breath. They did not have to wait long.

The young woman in the troupe stepped forward; her arms stretched out wide in order to maintain focus. The form of a dragon emerged, seemingly constructed out of black fog. A great number of the audience let out shrieks of alarm; dragons had not been kind to Camelot of late. The other members of the Caelohud ignored them, muttering spells to feed the illusion the woman had created and making the dragon even more imposing. The crowd watched in stunned silence as Berwyn, who had been standing by and watching the dragon develop, finally called out his own spell.

At first, it looked like nothing had happened. Then the crowd gasped as wisps of white smoke merged together in the shape of a fully-grown unicorn. It galloped around the arena, leaving glittering particles in its wake. Merlin felt a tear making its way down his cheek and he hurriedly wiped it away. Eventually, the unicorn ran rings around the dragon, ebbing away at it until it faded away in the air. The message was clear: magic could be fearsome, but it could also be the purest thing in creation. After a moment, the unicorn faded away too. Not a word passed among the audience as they took in what they had just witnessed.

Berwyn walked forward once more, bowing to the king before leading the rest of his troupe out of the arena. As they left, the dancing dwarves appeared again, following the Caelohud while blowing kisses at the crowd. The laughter was instantaneous, growing in strength until it combined with applause and cheers, filling the arena to a deafening extent. Merlin grinned as he took in the people's response and stood up to join in the praise. It was then that Merlin heard a voice in his head he knew belonged to Berwyn.

"Emrys, I'm lucky enough to call Alator a friend. He told me of a future I daren't hope to believe. I do this for him, for you, and for Albion."

* * *

Arthur drew a plate of boar steaks towards him, happy to see everyone around him enjoying their meal and chatting about what they had seen. The villagers had also quickly dispersed to their homes in order to enjoy the meals the castle had provided for them. It was hard to describe entirely what he was feeling, but Arthur knew relief played a big part in it. Unfortunately, even now at his most relaxed, something still niggled at Arthur. Something he needed to put right. Spotting Gwaine giving an incredibly accurate portrayal of the dragon to a gaggle of young nobles, Arthur waited until he had caught the knight's eye before beckoning him over.

"My lord?" Gwaine asked as he approached the table, clearly eager to resume his performance.

"I know it's a bit late, but I wanted to say I'm sorry Gwaine. I had no right to speak to you like that."

Gwaine blinked, obviously confused for a moment before it dawned on him what Arthur was apologising for. Clapping his friend on the shoulder, he shook off the apology.

"No worries, Arthur, it's already forgotten."

Gwen, who had previously been chatting with Merlin about the singing chaffinches, watched their exchange curiously.

"What did he do?" She asked, taking in Arthur's sheepish expression.

"He said I don't take anything seriously? Can you believe that?" Gwaine told Gwen with a wink. "Which is completely untrue. I take you seriously. I take you _very_ seriously." Gwen brushed off his comment, laughing loudly when she caught the sour look Arthur had given Gwaine.

"What?" Gwaine shrugged innocently, his eyes twinkling.

Tutting with mild annoyance, Arthur pulled up a chair for Gwaine to sit and eat with them. Something told Arthur the apology meant more to him than it did to Gwaine, but at least it was out there. Yes, all was forgiven.

* * *

Mordred turned his head to the sound of laughter at the King's table. What had happened to the man he had seen ready to tear himself apart a few days ago? What had changed? Mordred muttered a curse under his breath. He had spent so much time cleaning that blasted knight's filthy shoes, he had distracted himself from the reason he had come to Camelot in the first place – to cause Arthur the pain Morgana had felt by him. Mordred continued to observe as Arthur chatted to Gwaine, absent-mindedly caressing Guinevere's hand as she laughed with Merlin. Even though they were both in two completely separate conversations, they were still connected. Mordred watched the couple at the King's table in disgust. Morgana was right; the woman had some kind of influence over the King. It was only fair Mordred used this knowledge to his advantage.

* * *

_He could hear humming through the open window. He loved it when she sang – especially when she was unaware she was doing it. Gradually opening the door to her cottage, he smiled as she stood with her back to him, calming washing dishes in the sink. He entered silently, wanting to surprise her, wanting her to emit that little gasp that made him tingle with desire. He particularly loved her relaxed grin once she realised it was him. The longing in her gaze always gave away what she felt for him. It gave him a thrill to know he could do that to a person; but it also made him feel extremely lucky because she did that to him too. This was the woman he was going to make his wife – his Queen._

_Before he could creep up behind her, she spun round; her eyes twinkling at the fact she had caught him out. Even with her hands soapy from her recent task, she looked radiant. Her long, curly hair cascaded over her shoulders like chocolate rain. He continued to stand there; watching her appreciatively until she blushed and rolled her eyes, a smile playing on her lips. She approached him slowly, aware that he was watching her every move and only when she was stood directly in front of him did he finally give in. He needed to touch her. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he buried his head in the curve of her neck, letting the sweet scent of honey and lavender he had become accustomed to overpower him. He could feel her arms tighten around his neck, revelling in the contact. He planted a trail of kisses from her collarbone up to her jaw, before finally enveloping her mouth in a kiss._

_Unexpectedly, he felt her stiffen in his embrace. Tearing himself away from her lips, he looked at her in confusion; surprised to find her face twisted in agony. She staggered backwards, enabling him to watch in horror as a dark red stain materialized and grew around her abdomen. The tip of a silver blade was barely visible as it viciously withdrew from her body, fading into nothing. Where had that come from? Unable to speak, he moved forward, catching her as she fell to the ground. He was on autopilot; struggling to stem the blood with trembling hands whilst trying to ignore the pool of it spreading underneath them. This was not – could not – be happening._

_The blood pounding in his head drowned out all the noise around him, but he knew he was screaming; begging, pleading for this not to be real. As he held her, he could feel her heartbeat slow. He saw her eyes close and shook her, desperate for her to awaken, to hold on for a little longer. She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with pain and an air of finality. The trace of a smile appeared as she whispered his name, before drawing her final breath. As the light left her eyes, he moaned, unintentionally running his blood-caked hands through his blond hair as his tears fell freely. Then the realisation hit him: he had lost her. Gripping her lifeless body to his, he howled, the ache in his chest so raw, so potent, he was sure he would pass out from it._

His face mingled with sweat and tears, Arthur's eyes snapped open, the opulent designs adorning the ceiling assuring him he was in his bedchambers. The rising sun streamed in almost mockingly through the cracks in the curtain. Sitting up gingerly, the King surveyed his quivering hands, sure he would find them coated in blood. They were clammy but spotless. Looking around the room, Arthur was relieved to find it empty. Under normal circumstances, the guards he usually had posted in the hallway would have rushed in – Arthur was sure he had been crying out loud enough. Fortunately, last night he had allowed them to continue with the festivities down in the village. Seeing their King like this would have reversed all the joy the performance had brought to Camelot.

Drawing in a haggard breath, Arthur settled back down in his bed, shivering involuntarily. Why was this happening? Was this another vision? But if someone was trying to warn him, why would they do it in the cruellest form imaginable? Blinking back tears, Arthur considered that maybe he was just losing his mind. He had seen it happen to his father more than once. Maybe this was what came with the territory of becoming King: once you had more to lose, your mind could not help but manufacture your deepest fears – disabling you. Clenching his jaw, Arthur wiped his face before throwing back the covers and stepping unsteadily onto the cool, wooden flooring. He would not allow the people he loved to get hurt.


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur had fought hard to control his thoughts, but the more he struggled, the easier it was to succumb to them.

_Pools of blood. Raging fires. Death._

Already he had failed in his efforts to make sure Guinevere was safe. Her cottage was disconcertingly empty and now his mind raced, dreaming up increasingly agonizing images. It seemed the nightmares he had been having were no longer relegated to sleep. In the short amount of time it had taken Arthur to make his way over to Gwen's house after the dream, he had been plagued by them, to the point where he had almost fallen to his knees. Visions of fires raging in Camelot merged into those of Guinevere's lifeless body. Arthur could feel the flames licking against his skin and the smoke invading every orifice of his body. The blood he saw was so vivid he could taste it. It took every nerve in Arthur's body to convince himself that what he was seeing was not real, but it was tearing him apart and he knew at some point people would notice he was not all there. Arthur was thankful that the streets of Camelot were mostly empty – no doubt some of them were trying to sleep off the ale they had drunk the night before.

_Camelot burning. Broken bodies. Guinevere. Gone._

Arthur would rather have had madness hit him suddenly and swiftly – it would have been easier to endure. He hated the awareness of it all. Awareness that his mind was not what it once was: that he was barely managing to hang on to his sanity. No matter what, Arthur had vowed he would try to cling to reason; he would grin and bear it in order to protect Camelot. But Guinevere's cottage was empty and he had no idea where she was.

* * *

A multitude of feelings – primarily guilt – had invaded Guinevere's sleep the previous night once they had finally retired from the feast. That, along with the gloriously crisp spring air, prompted her to take an early morning walk to clear her head. Most people would have put Gwen's distraction down to nerves, since she was to become Queen in a couple of days, but Gwen knew that was not the case. She could barely contain her joy at the fact that soon she would be forever joined with Arthur, and that it would be recognised throughout Camelot that they belonged to each other. No, what Guinevere could not help but dwell on, was how much she wished her father could be there to see it.

The performance the night before had brought back painful memories of her father – predominantly about how Gwen had lost him because of magic. Of course, it was really Uther's campaign against magic that had sealed her father's fate. But while Guinevere had never been hostile towards those who practised magic, she was always sure she would never want anything to do with it. And now...try as she might, Gwen could no longer maintain the anger she had previously held for sorcery. How could she hold contempt for something that had brought Arthur to her? That, combined with the breathtaking display she had been fortunate to see the night before, had made Gwen realise magic was something she wanted to understand – and the resulting guilt had kept sleep from her.

At least the brisk walk had given Gwen a solitary moment to evaluate her thoughts. No matter what, one thing Guinevere knew about her father was that he wanted her to be happy, and she was – incredibly so. In Gwen's mind, magic had some small part to play in that and it finally allowed her to open up her heart to it. Gathering possibly the last bunch of flowers that would ever grace her home, Guinevere turned from the edge of the woods and made her way back to her cottage.

As Gwen neared her home, she was wary about the unusual activity surrounding it. From a distance, she could see guards moving around cumbersome objects – many of them familiar. Was that her table? Breaking into a sprint, Gwen called out as she ran towards them, halting the loud chatter between the men.

"What's going on?"

At that moment, Sir Percival exited her cottage, effortlessly carrying the table she had always dined on. He too stopped when he saw her, looking curiously relieved. Setting the table down carefully, he made his way over to Gwen and took her to one side.

"My lady." Percival had always addressed her this way. It had unnerved Gwen at first, because unlike Gwaine who usually did it to annoy Arthur, Percy must have always seen her as their future Queen – even before Gwen had truly acknowledged it herself. "Where have you been?"

"Good morning to you too, Percival," Gwen replied tetchily, trying and failing to keep her annoyance down to a minimum. Guinevere was still in the process of sorting through the things she wanted to keep – now it looked like the decision had been made for her. "What are you doing with my things?"

"King Arthur said we should move them into the castle," Percy replied. "He felt that you would be safer there. Where have you been? We thought you were missing! I think Elyan's even organised a search party." Gwen stared back at him in disbelief.

"A search party? I only went for a walk; I barely left the Lower Town! What do you mean 'safer' Percival?"

"Arthur must have thought you were in danger," Percival replied with a shrug. "I only know what Elyan told me and I don't think he's left yet – maybe you could ask him?"

"Fine, I will," Gwen replied distractedly as she gave her possessions strewn outside the cottage a swift appraisal. "But in the meantime you can leave things where they are." At this, Percival shifted awkwardly on the spot.

"I'm afraid we can't do that, my lady," he mumbled. Gwen could see the knight at least looked apologetic. "Arthur ordered the things to be moved as soon as possible. You might have to talk to him about this."

"Fine, I will!" Gwen repeated exasperatedly before marching off towards the castle.

* * *

Merlin was at a loss. Once again, he had entered Arthur's bedroom that morning to find an empty bed coupled with that unsettling atmosphere he had attributed to Leon's servant. Fearing the worst, Merlin was just preparing to make his way to the tavern when he was alerted to the commotion in the adjoining study. Stumbling into the room, Merlin was alarmed to find Arthur awake and fully-clothed, giving instruction to a group of carpenters who were in the midst of knocking a gaping hole between the study and the next bedroom.

"Arthur..?" Merlin breathed, more bewildered than anything else. Realising Arthur had not heard him over the loud clanging of the workmen, Merlin moved forward to tap the King impatiently on the shoulder. Arthur spun round immediately, almost knocking his manservant aside.

"Merlin!" The King exclaimed, leaving Merlin wondering if he had imagined the despair he had felt just then in the bedchamber. Arthur planted his arm on Merlin's shoulders, casually putting him into a stranglehold and leaving his servant with a face full of armpit. "Just in time. I need someone to clear away this rubble once they're done. Guess who I've nominated?" In such close proximity, Merlin could smell that Arthur had not bathed that morning. Ducking to release himself from Arthur's grasp, Merlin stepped back and scowled. Something did seem a little off with his friend, but Merlin was just glad he had not found Arthur in a ditch again. Besides, there was another troubling matter that had to be addressed immediately.

"What on earth are you doing to the wall?"

"Creating a doorway, obviously." Arthur replied with a shrug, turning his attention back to the labourers. "Have you seen Guinevere?"

"I-no, what do you mean obviously?" Merlin spluttered, examining the damage to the wall. It was a perfectly standard doorway, but with the castle's handcrafted woodwork, it would take a while before they could get a door to fill in the gap. Through the hole, Merlin could see the luxurious interior of a bedroom that had previously been undisturbed.

"That there is going to be Gwen's room until the wedding – though she can use it for whatever she wants after." Merlin snorted derisively at this: he had a feeling Gwen was going to be using that room a lot more than Arthur would like if he kept up this odd behaviour. "It's close, that's all that matters." Arthur continued, ignoring Merlin. "Have you seen her by the way? I looked around all morning and I couldn't find her."

"No I didn't," Merlin answered tersely, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why are you doing it now? Couldn't you have waited a few days?" Merlin barrelled on, leaving no time for a response. "The doors are custom-made! Where are you going to get a new one at such short notice?"

"Don't you think I've thought of that?" Arthur frowned, turning away from the handiwork he had been inspecting to face his servant. "We'll just use some drapes until we can get one. It'll look alright and I'm sure Guinevere wouldn't mind. She wasn't at her cottage this morning though – I checked. Do you know where she is-"

"No! I've already told you, I..." Merlin trailed off as he finally took in Arthur's demeanour. On closer inspection, Merlin realised that what he had initially regarded as composure was actually thinly veiled torment. He could see now that Arthur's eyes were red-rimmed and glassy and every so often, an imperceptible tremor ran through the King's body. Fear gripped Merlin's heart as at that moment, Arthur's eyes became vacant, his mind elsewhere. Merlin had a feeling it was a place nobody would never wish to go. Merlin gripped his shoulder, gently shaking him to regain his attention.

"Arthur?"

Arthur looked blankly back at his manservant before smiling widely. He was back.

"Well? Your work awaits," he said, gesturing to the piles of stone wall. "That'll be all guys, thank you." Taking their cue, the labourers bowed quickly to Arthur and glanced wearily at Merlin before leaving. He had a feeling there would be mutterings amongst the villagers today.

Neither of them spoke. Instead they stared at the piles of debris before them. Just as Merlin opened his mouth to lighten the mood with a joke about earning extra days off, Arthur broke the silence.

"I have such terrible dreams, Merlin."

"I guessed as much," Merlin replied quietly, taking in the dark circles under the King's eyes. "I think – no, I know who's responsible, Arthur." Merlin spoke quickly and succinctly. He had wasted enough time already. Myddryn had got to Arthur faster than Merlin had anticipated and he had not been able to stop him. "I should have told you this sooner. It's Leon's servant. He's doing this to you."

"How do you know that?" Arthur asked, his stance indicating he was preoccupied once again.

"I-" Merlin paused as he tried to think of a way to explain the aura around the boy without implicating himself. "I get this feeling around him. He's dangerous. Besides, don't you find it odd that Leon's suddenly got some unknown servant working for him?"

"You always get like this when another manservant gets a little attention." Arthur groaned, his voice becoming shriller by the second. "Don't worry, you're the prettiest one of them all!" Merlin blinked back at him, momentarily stunned. This was ridiculous. Convincing Arthur of things was troublesome at the best of times; tackling him in this state of mind was virtually impossible. This was obviously something Merlin was going to have to deal with alone.

"Arthur...you're not well. You need to-"

Merlin found himself cut off when Gwen came crashing into the study.

"Arthur, what's going on?"

"Guinevere!" Arthur launched himself at his fiancée and hugged her tightly, his face overcome with relief. "I was so worried, you weren't there and I...I was so worried."

Still locked in Arthur's embrace, Gwen shot a bewildered look over his shoulder at Merlin, who subtly shook his head. He had no way of explaining the abrupt change in Arthur. Merlin could see the irritation Gwen had swept into the room with washed away by concern for him.

"I'm sorry, I went for a walk," Gwen said as she drew away from Arthur and squeezed his arms reassuringly. "I didn't realise you would be looking for me. I'll make sure to let someone know next time."

"It's alright, you're here now and you're safe." Taking Gwen's hand, he gestured to the hole in the wall. "What do you think?

"You did promise you would wait," Gwen replied quietly, her gaze causing Arthur to shift uncomfortably. Merlin watched as Arthur deliberated how to respond to this, his brow furrowed with anxiety. Gwen must have noticed his distress because she quickly added: "But I'm glad you did this. Thank you." Arthur smiled widely, squeezing her hand affectionately before guiding her through the hole.

Merlin used the diversion to edge out of the study and back into Arthur's bedchambers, closing the door behind him. First he would cleanse the room again – then there was vermin to eliminate.

* * *

Mordred stood in the armoury of the castle, staring sullenly at the pair of Leon's boots he was meant to be cleaning and thinking only of Morgana. The castle was getting tiresome – he wanted to go home. Mordred sighed dramatically as the presence that had previously followed him around made itself known once again.

"You're like a fly that won't stop going up my nose." He turned to face Merlin who stood in the doorway, his face set like stone.

"You will undo whatever you've done to Arthur and you will leave Camelot. Immediately."

"Well!" Mordred could barely contain his excitement at the open challenge. "Don't I get a say in this?"

"You will do as I say or you will regret it."

"I don't respond well to threats," Mordred warned. "How are you going to make me, Emrys?" Mordred sneered, pleased to see Merlin jolt at the mention of his other name.

"How-?"

"Is that why I'm not being thrown in prison?" Mordred cut in. "I'm guessing you can't reveal my magic without revealing yourself.

"Who are you?" Merlin glared, failing to conceal his annoyance and giving Mordred ample ammunition to play with him.

"I'm surprised you didn't recognise me to be honest. I did tell you we would meet again."

"...Mordred." Merlin breathed. Mordred could see Merlin trying to connect the small boy to the powerful sorcerer standing before him. Seeing no more need for pretence, Mordred allowed his eyes to return to their piercing blue – the blue that promised danger to those who dared to get too close to him.

"The great Emrys. How does it feel, knowing you stood back while I turned your King into nothing more than a husk?" Mordred jeered, looking entirely unimpressed. "The Druids are fools for putting any faith in you at all. You're a joke."

"But you know of the future that has been promised to Camelot!" Merlin replied furiously. "I don't understand why you would go against someone who is destined to protect us all."

"Destiny is what you choose to make it." Mordred said rolling his eyes. Even now, Merlin was trying to reason with him. "Morgana should be the one to restore Camelot to greatness – without the blood of countless sorcerers the Pendragon name is soaked in."

"I don't know if you've chosen to ignore this vital point, but Uther's blood runs in her veins too."

"And so does magic. She will be a stronger Queen and more committed to people like us. You only have to look at how easy it was for me to enter Arthur's mind to realise how weak he really is!"

"You may have grown a few feet, but you're still as immature as ever. Morgana's using you – just like Alvarr did." Mordred was irritated to find Merlin's words burying themselves under his skin. It was second time in a short while he had been deemed immature. When were people going to start respecting the power he wielded for what it was?

"I don't even have to be here anymore. Arthur will destroy himself without my help and Camelot will soon be without a ruler. Morgana and I would be more than happy to step in."

"I won't rest until you and Morgana are stopped." Merlin spat viciously.

"Is that right?" Mordred said with a stiff smile. Before Merlin had a chance to open his mouth, Mordred sent him flying back against a rack full of armour. The shelf wobbled precariously before emptying its contents over the Merlin's head, burying him in metal and rendering him unconscious. Mordred quelled the bubble of laughter that rose up his throat. It looked like he was heading home sooner than he had anticipated.

* * *

Guinevere stood in front of the full length mirror in her new bedroom, wearing the wedding dress that had arrived that morning amongst the bustle. It was exquisite: its delicate white silk structure interrupted only by the smatterings of amethyst jewels sewn into the bodice. After her failed attempt to create a dress, Gwen had been worried that she would feel uncomfortable in the excessive grandeur the court seamstress was sure to favour – but this creation was unassuming and hung pleasantly on her frame without making her feel too trussed up. Gwen bit her lip as she wondered how a dress could have brought her so much anxiety. Now it seemed embarrassingly trivial.

Elyan had told her how he had found Arthur frozen in her cottage that morning, barely able to breathe. Even then Arthur had been adamant he would join Elyan in the search for her until her brother had convinced him he would only hinder their efforts. Gwen assumed that was when Arthur had decided to move her into the castle – it must have been the only way he thought he could protect her.

The day had dragged on relentlessly and it was only still mid-afternoon. Merlin had disappeared, meaning he had failed to clear up the rubble, which also guaranteed excessive cursing from Arthur. For once, Gwen did not scold him. Every empty threat Arthur made against his manservant gave her hope that he was becoming his old self again. In order to stop him whinging, Gwen had made a start on the clearance herself, despite Arthur's protests. Of course he eventually joined in, seemingly finding solace in the mindless work and using the time to prepare new insults for Merlin's return. Arthur had even managed to laugh along with her when he had lost his footing lugging a stone block and landed with a thump on his rear. But then, there were still incidents where Arthur became immersed in his nightmares and Gwen could do nothing but be there for him.

Gwen was still confused about how drastically things had changed overnight. Even after Arthur had had the dream about Camelot, he seemed to have been handling it well. In fact, combined with the discovery of Uther's letter, his confidence in his own decisions had grown immensely. Arthur had also become more vigilant about Camelot's security in the past few days, but that was understandable considering what he had seen. Now, Arthur's attention seemed specifically targeted at her; he barely let Gwen out of his sight. She had asked him while they worked if he had had another dream and Arthur had denied it vehemently. This only made Guinevere certain that it had something to do with her.

Gwen stared at her reflection, taking a deep breath that hitched in her throat and threatened to choke her. Was there even going to be a wedding? Gaius had informed her that he and Merlin were working on a tonic that could bring about dreamless sleep, but it would take time to brew. Though even if it did work, would it be able to erase the damage the dreams had already done to him? Gwen heard the rustle of the velvet drapes they had used to cover the entrance and turned to find Arthur watching her intently.

"You look so beautiful," Arthur murmured, his eyes travelling over the length of the gown before meeting hers. Gwen felt a twinge in her stomach. He looked pained; as if he wanted to say something but the words were just beyond his reach.

"Thank you. You're not supposed to have seen me in this," she chided gently with a small smile. Gwen was pleased to see him smile back at her.

"I don't regret it for a moment."

Arthur entered the room and sat on the edge of her bed. They stayed there for a few minutes in comfortable silence, occasionally catching each other's eye in the mirror before Arthur spoke again.

"We'll be alright won't we?"

Gwen's eyes stung with tears, but she blinked hard, forcing them back within her. She would not cry – not in front of him. Not when he needed her to be strong.

"Of course we will." She turned away from the mirror to look at her fiancé directly. "No matter what." Arthur nodded firmly as if reassured.

"I'm so tired, Guinevere. Do you mind if I rest my eyes for a bit? It'll be better here with you."

"Not at all," Gwen answered as Arthur removed his shoes and lay down on top of the covers. Gwen sat on the edge of the bed, manoeuvring her dress in order to get into a comfortable position. She stroked Arthur's hair until his eyes closed and his breathing finally evened out, hoping that nothing would disturb him this time.

* * *

_He was in the Lower Town. Soot and dirt – remnants of the fire he had failed to put out in Camelot – clung mockingly to his clothes. He thought his body was unable to function until a female voice singing from one of the nearby cottages forced him to move. He knew that voice. He loved that voice. He clung on to the hope that perhaps not all was lost._

_The scene played out as it had before. Even though he knew what was coming, he was unable to stop himself going through the motions: holding her close, kissing her neck, watching her die. Seeing the deep red seep through her dress again was no less traumatic than the first. Perhaps even more so, because he knew it was coming and still there was nothing he could do. But there was one difference._

_It was only as he fell to the ground with her that noticed the attacker was still there, swathed in shadows. The knife was clutched between thin fingers and dripping fresh blood. Arthur moaned as he realised the man was not unknown to him – it was the person he trusted with everything. The scrawny frame and thatch of dark brown hair was unmistakable._

"No!" Wrenching himself awake, Arthur found himself with his head resting in Guinevere's lap and gasping for air.

"It wasn't real, Arthur," Gwen said softly as she stroked his hair.

Arthur felt the sobs deep in his belly before they left his lips. When they finally did, they were ugly and guttural, sending quakes through his whole body. Everything in him felt raw and unharnessed. Arthur could feel her kiss his forehead lightly.

"Just hang on for a little longer. Please." Guinevere's voice was thick with emotion as she leaned down and kissed his forehead. Arthur gripped Guinevere's arm tightly as if hanging onto a lifeboat. He was drowning in the aftermath of a betrayal he prayed was fictitious but could no longer determine. Finally, the tears had subsided long enough for Arthur to choke out the words he hated to admit were true.

"I can't."

* * *

"The wedding's off."

Gwaine waited patiently as Geoffrey sat at his desk, trying to process what he had just been told.

"Who told you this?" Geoffrey said finally, his chin tightening defiantly. "I'm usually aware of important decisions such as this."

"Gwen did," Gwaine answered carefully. "And this is me telling you now."

"But this is preposterous!" Geoffrey spluttered, standing up from the chair behind his desk. "Do you know how much work has gone into the preparations? We have nobles who have travelled from as far as Mercia to be here."

"They can't attend a wedding with no groom can they?" Gwaine replied evenly. "You know Arthur was ill this morning – well he's only gotten worse. I don't think anyone can question Gwen's judgement here."

"But-"

"Have you seen Arthur today?" Gwaine cut in sharply, his patience wearing thin. "He barely comprehends where he is or who we are."

Gwaine shivered as he remembered how he had seen Arthur that morning. Gwen had been reluctant to let him in, but Gwaine had been adamant. He had been searching for Merlin and had assumed the manservant would be there with the King. Instead, Arthur had been sat silently in an armchair staring at the unlit fireplace as if mesmerised by it. Gwaine could not help but keep a wary eye on the still King as he spoke to Gwen and was disturbed to find Arthur was now watching him too. His predator-like gaze followed Gwaine's every movement, leaving the knight feeling something he rarely felt – fear. Acknowledging his presence was not welcome; Gwaine had touched Gwen's shoulder to signal his departure and regretted it almost immediately. Arthur had sprung from his chair, his eyes feral and fearful all at once, and Gwaine could only hold his breath as Gwen went over to calm him down. It seemed highly unlikely one would find such levels of fragility and menace in a person and yet there it was. Gwaine could not have left the room fast enough.

"He doesn't trust any of us," Gwaine finished quietly. He and Geoffrey stood in silence for a moment as they thought about what this could mean for the future.

"What do I tell them?"

"You tell them the bare minimum," Gwaine deliberated. "I know most of the guards have been told to keep quiet. It'd be best if word didn't get out about how bad Arthur is. We know nothing definitive anyway and it's the last thing Camelot needs."

"I guess I'll give the nobles the news. Not many tasks fill me with dread, but this?" Geoffrey sighed heavily. "A few of them have already been...unsavoury about the future Queen. I hate to think what comments this new development generates." Gwaine noted Geoffrey looked genuinely anxious and gently patted his shoulder.

"There are things we have no control over, Geoffrey, and this is one of them." Throwing the old librarian an easy smile with eyes that flashed dangerously, Gwaine steered him out the door of the antiquated library. "Tell you what, we'll face them together. You know how I love a good spar."

* * *

Merlin groaned as he awakened, shoving helmets and breastplates off his aching body. How long had he been out? It looked like it had already gotten dark. Heaving himself to his feet, Merlin stumbled to regain his balance before trying the door handle. Predictably, it was locked fast with magic.

" _Tospringe_ ," Merlin whispered hurriedly, pushing open the door with little effort and hurrying down the corridor. There was no doubt in his mind that Mordred must have found his way to Arthur and if Arthur was hurt, he would never be able to forgive himself. Bounding up the stairs towards Arthur's room, Merlin nearly collided with Lynn, one of the kitchen maids.

"Merlin!" Lynn cried, blocking his path. "If anyone knows something, you do!"

"I can't talk now, sorry," Merlin mumbled, trying to push past.

"But you're his manservant. Why is the wedding off? You must know!"

Merlin's heart thudded in his chest.

"What?"

"It was announced a few hours ago," Lynn frowned, studying Merlin's reaction. "Didn't you hear?"

"I-" Merlin stopped as the reality of the situation dawned on him. Gwen and Arthur's union was one of the sure things he knew had to take place to bring about Camelot's anticipated future. If that had changed, Mordred and indeed Morgana were already on their way to destroying everything. "I have to go."

Propelling the maid to one side, Merlin continued up the stairs until he reached Arthur's bedchambers. Having two guards stationed outside was a relatively new development, but one that Merlin had become accustomed to. What stunned him was that they both drew their swords, crossing them to deny him access.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm afraid we've been told not to let you in," the younger of the guards replied, inclining his head towards the door.

"What the…why not?" Merlin fumed, still trying to separate the barrier before him. Had Mordred managed to get to everyone here? Merlin waved his hand in the other guard's face in a desperate attempt to snap him out of whatever he was under. "Do you know who I am?"

"Of course we know who you are, Merlin, for Christ's sake!" The older guard hissed. "You've only managed to step on my foot every time you've been here!" Merlin scowled at this.

"This is serious. There are things Arthur needs to know." Before Merlin could open his mouth to call out to the King, a hand clapped over his mouth, dragging him around the corner and away from the Arthur's door.

"Will you keep your voice down! Do you have a deathwish?" Spinning around, Merlin found himself staring up at a furious Leon, who promptly removed his hand from Merlin's mouth.

"Will someone tell me what's going on?" Merlin cried exasperatedly.

"You're lucky you've been away, Merlin. Arthur has been calling for your head." Leon told him in hushed tones.

"I don't understand," Merlin mumbled dejectedly. "What am I meant to have done?"

"It doesn't matter, he's not in his right mind." Leon shook his head, the frown line between his eyebrows deepening. "But it's best you stay out of there, for your own safety."

Merlin swallowed painfully. His place had always been beside Arthur; it was where he belonged. If he was not there protecting him, he was lost. At the moment, Merlin decided he would rather feel rage than despair.

"Where is Mordred?"

"Mordred?" Leon asked, puzzled.

"Your servant! Mor- Myddryn?"

"Oh. He had to leave. Family emergency." Leon scratched his head thoughtfully. "I quite enjoyed having a servant though. I never really thought I needed one...I think I might get another." Merlin resisted the urge to punch something.

"Don't you dare," he growled irritably.

* * *

Following the sharp knock at the door, Guinevere moved from her resting position at the foot of Arthur's chair and proceeded to stretch the stiffness out of her body.

"Who's that?" Arthur asked, following her as she made her way to the door.

"It's probably Elyan," Gwen answered. Since the last dream, Arthur's threats towards Merlin had evolved into something that seriously terrified her. It was a stark contrast to the faux irritation she had witnessed in Arthur that afternoon. He wanted to hurt someone. Guinevere had tried to make sure Merlin was kept safe and away from Arthur, but she was certain she had heard him outside a few moments ago. He sounded angry, but Gwen hoped her friend would understand. Arthur had even become wary about the knights, which meant getting the tonic from Gaius was also proving difficult. Since Elyan was her brother, Guinevere hoped Arthur would be more understanding about his appearance in the room.

"Why is he here? Isn't he meant to be on patrol?" Arthur frowned.

"He will be," Gwen said with a smile. She found that when she smiled it seemed to relax him a bit – even though it was becoming harder and harder to keep up. "We're just going to go over a few last minute wedding details." She opened the door and Elyan entered, nodding anxiously at Arthur.

"We're just going through to the study." Gwen stated carefully as she led Elyan towards the drapes. "You've already seen the dress, you can't know about this too! Is that alright?" Arthur shrugged in response.

"I suppose."

"Do you have the medicine?" Gwen asked in hushed tones once they were alone. Elyan handed over a small blue bottle, which masked the colour of the liquid inside.

"Thank you," Gwen breathed reaching out to take it from him. As she did, Elyan took hold of her wrist, inspecting it.

"What's that, Gwen?"

Gwen glanced at the dark bruise that developed on her wrist. Of course she had been far to preoccupied to notice it before.

"It must have happened when Arthur was coming out of that nightmare," Gwen dismissed. "Will you thank Gaius and Merlin for me?" She turned to return to her bedroom, but Elyan still had hold of her arm.

"That looks pretty bad, Gwen." Elyan said slowly. "I would lay down my life for Arthur, you know I would. But I don't know if this is safe for you." Elyan inspected his sister's arm, his brows furrowed. "How can you-" Elyan broke off as Gwen wrenched her arm out of his grip, startling him.

"You listen to me Elyan, and listen well. I love you; I always have and always will, because you are my brother and that will never change. But don't-" Elyan started to protest but Gwen cut him off abruptly, her voice cracking over the words as she still tried to keep Arthur from hearing them. "Don't you _dare_ try to lecture me – especially concerning matters of the heart. Not after you broke mine when you left without a second thought. You know, I'm stronger than you think I am. I've had to be."

Elyan shifted uncomfortably, the ramifications of his past actions cruelly laid out in front of him.

"I'm sorry Gwen. I know there's no excuse, but I...I just needed to find my place in the world."

"I know," Gwen sighed, wiping her eyes wearily. She had heard it before and while Gwen could appreciate the need for self-discovery, she could never forget how alone she felt after their father's death. Gwen wished she had not said anything now, but it had erupted out of her, beyond her control. "I'm sorry I brought it up. This wasn't the time or the place."

"It just took me a while." Elyan said as he struggled to find away to explain his thoughts. "To realise my place was with my family." Gwen nodded, squeezing his hand to signify she was trying to understand.

"Let's talk about this another time, Elyan." Gwen replied firmly and she turned back towards her bedchamber.

"Do you think he's going to be alright?" Elyan asked tentatively, his voice low with acceptance that his sister would stay by Arthur's side.

"I don't know. All we can do is hope."

* * *

Arthur eyed the small bottle in Gwen's hand suspiciously.

"What did you say it was? A sleeping potion? Where did you get it from? Was it Gaius?"

"I got it from Elyan," Gwen responded hastily. "He used this remedy on his travels." Arthur felt relief wash over him. If it came from Gaius, then Merlin could have tampered with it. They were probably working together – conspiring against him.

"I don't want to sleep anymore." Arthur said simply, turning back to the fireplace. He needed to watch over it and make sure it was never lit. One small spark was all it took to create chaos.

"Arthur," Gwen came up behind him, snaking her arms around his waist. Arthur felt himself relax slightly. "Our wedding is in two days and there's a lot to do tomorrow. Don't you think we should get some sleep?"

Arthur grimaced. He could not bear it if his mood brought down the whole wedding. It was meant to be the happiest day of their lives. Arthur turned to face Gwen and considered her for a moment before gulping down the mixture. Guinevere smiled gratefully at him and the reservations he had about taking the liquid vanished. He lay down on the bed, dragging Gwen down with him, facing her. He stared at her until his eyes became heavy and sleep enveloped him once again.

_The attacker was there in front of him, the blade dripping and his face remorseless. Traitor. With a howl, he launched himself at his friend, encircling the man's skinny neck with his hands._

"Arthur, calm down."

_How could he calm down when the loyalty he thought he could depend on had been snatched from him?_

"Arthur, please!"

_He tightened his hand around his manservant's throat, willing the life out of him._

"Arthur!" The voice came out in a strangled choke now, causing him to snap awake. Arthur was horrified to find his hands tightly enclosed around Guinevere's neck, her eyes wide with fear as she clawed at his fingers. Releasing the hands around Gwen's throat, he leapt off the bed and backed up against the door.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Arthur whispered as Gwen stood up and tried to catch her breath. Bile rose up in Arthur's throat as he took in the fresh handprints that had appeared on her neck where Agravaine's had once faded. He was on par with Agravaine. The thought made him sick to his stomach. Alarm swept over Arthur as he saw Guinevere tentatively approach him.

"No! Stay away from me, please!"

Gwen stopped abruptly, but Arthur could see her expression laced with concern as she reached out for him anyway, begging him to come back to her. Over the roar of adrenaline that invaded his ears, Arthur could hear her say that he needed help, that he was not himself and that she did not blame him – but what did that matter when he blamed himself? He was the monster. The threat. Not some invisible force and certainly not Merlin.

"Guinevere, I-" After hours of delirium, it was remarkable how lucid his thoughts were now. Arthur could apologise all he wanted, but nothing could excuse what he had done. There was nothing he could say. Arthur knew Gwen was watching, waiting for him to speak. Avoiding her gaze, he slipped wordlessly out of the room, nearly bumping into the guards stationed outside the door. Arthur could hear Gwen sobbing quietly from behind the door and every fibre of his being wanted to go back in and wrap her up in his arms. Instead, all he could do was try and tune her out. What hurt Arthur more than words could express was that he knew Guinevere was not crying for herself, but for him – for what he had become.

"Look after her," Arthur mumbled to the guards, stumbling off before they could respond. Their faces had been determinedly impassive, but Arthur could still feel their judgement weighing down on him as he turned the corner.

* * *

Gaius had listened patiently as Merlin relayed his encounter with Mordred, pausing briefly to give Elyan the potion he had finally been able to help Gaius complete. He had tried searching through the Lower Town and the woods, but knew in his heart Mordred was long gone. Merlin recalled how Mordred had sneered at him, questioning his ability to fulfil Arthur's destiny. Merlin could not help but question it himself. Mordred seemed so much stronger than he was. How was Merlin meant to protect anyone if he could not even compete against a little boy?

Merlin sat at the kitchen table, stretching limbs that were still tender from the falling armoury. Gaius had retreated to bed at least an hour ago, urging his apprentice to do the same, but Merlin could not bring himself to sleep. Not until he heard word from Gwen that the potion had worked. If it had not, then this was all beyond Merlin and he would need to call on an old friend once again.

A light tap on the door shook Merlin out of his pity party and he rushed over to it, upsetting the weak hinges as he flung it open. He was astonished to find Arthur stood there, pale and shaking, his eyes red-rimmed and aghast.

"You've got to help me, Merlin. I don't want to hurt her. Please... you have to stop me before it's too late!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's broken up quite a bit, but there was a lot going on and I wanted to get certain viewpoints. Hopefully it still flows alright :)


	7. Chapter 7

Gwen did not know how long she had been sitting on the end of her bed. The tears had long subsided, leaving her feeling drained, hollow and incredibly tired. The guards had come and gone; trying and failing to comfort her, but assuring her the incident would remain private. She was thankful for that at least. Guinevere could not bear to have people think unfavourably of their King. She could not deny how afraid she had been during the attack, but it paled in comparison to how terrified she was of losing Arthur altogether. Only those who had seen him unravel in the past few days would truly understand how sick Arthur was. How different he had been from the man they all loved and respected. Gwen winced as the helplessness she sporadically felt surfaced once again.

Fiddling with the engagement ring on her finger, Gwen watched it sparkle every so often as it caught the light. Wrapped in her own thoughts, the click of the chamber door caused Gwen to jump and she was surprised to see Merlin step into the room. He paused in the doorway, his expression grave as he took in her appearance before making his way over to Gwen and sitting down heavily beside her.

"Let me see." he said softly. Before awaiting a response, Merlin gently lifted Gwen's chin to inspect the bruises. After what seemed like an age Merlin spoke again, his voice so icy Gwen felt a shiver run down her spine. Her friend suddenly seemed so much older than his years.

"Does it hurt?"

Gwen nodded, unable to stop herself swallowing and grimacing from the resulting pain. Now that her focus had been brought back to her injury, it throbbed viciously. Merlin reached into his pocket and brought out a small tub of ointment. They sat in silence as Merlin delicately applied the salve to the bruises on her neck. Even though his actions were soothing, Gwen could feel an undercurrent of anger in them – it left her feeling both comforted and unnerved.

"This will make it feel numb for a while, ok? Re-apply when it doesn't."

"Ok," Gwen tried to say, but the combination of crying, choking and lack of use caused it to come out as a croak. Merlin handed her the cream and stood up, straightening his jacket. Gwen finally noticed that he was dressed in his outdoor clothing.

"Where are you going?" Gwen whispered. Merlin hesitated briefly before replying.

"I'm going to get help. This is beyond us and I have a friend near the forest who may have some answers." Merlin scratched his head distractedly. "I don't know how long I'll be but I'll try to get back as soon as I can."

Gwen nodded before trying to speak again.

"Where's Arthur?" She finally managed.

"He's with Gaius. We've sedated him for now, but I fear we're running out of time." Merlin sighed heavily; his face looked worn under the flickering candlelight. "Gwen, he's slipping away from us. Whatever's taken hold of his mind is only getting stronger and I fear soon the Arthur we know and love will be lost forever."

Gwen suppressed a shudder, determined to rid her mind of the worst possible outcome. Instead she stood up and grasped Merlin's arms firmly.

"What do you need me to do?" She asked, eyeing him resolutely and noting Merlin's hesitancy in telling her. She had no doubt that Merlin thought her fragile after Arthur's attack, but there was no way Gwen was going to abandon Arthur when he needed her most. "Tell me," she persisted.

"We need someone to stay with him and keep him attached to this world. Anything to remind him who he is and why we need him..." Merlin paused briefly, seemingly concerned by Gwen's tightening grip. "...but I can ask Geoffrey or Leon if you don't feel up to it."

"Merlin, it's Arthur. Of course, I'll stay with him."

"Of course you would," Merlin replied, unable to keep the smile of gratitude and pride off his face as he hugged Gwen. "If…when he wakes up, make sure you remind him how lucky he is to have you."

"Us," Gwen corrected with a whisper as she withdrew from the hug. "Take care of yourself, Merlin."

As Merlin headed towards the door, a thought occurred to Gwen.

"Your friend...does he have something to do with magic?" At Gwen's words, Merlin turned back, his face determinedly impassive as he assessed her. Gwen wondered why Merlin suddenly seemed so on edge.

"Does it matter?" Merlin asked carefully. Gwen found she did not need to think about it.

"No."

Merlin smiled weakly, nodded and turned back towards the door, but Gwen was sure she had not imagined the look of relief pass briefly over her friend's face.

"I'm sorry this happened, Gwen," Merlin said regretfully as he cast one last look back at her. "But I promise I'll make it right."

With that he left, before Guinevere could to tell him he was not at fault.

* * *

Morgana stared into her sister's crystal ball, willing an image to appear before her. Passed down through families, crystal balls were a rarity. Filled with the power to reveal the present and various futures, in the wrong hands they were dangerous magical tools. Morgause had never seemed to have difficulty spying on her enemies with this device and Morgana had often admired how simple it was for her sister to check in on those who were a danger to her. It was not as if Morgana had not tried. Morgause had on numerous occasions attempted to teach Morgana this skill, but it required a clear, emotionless mind and in recent years, Morgana's could not be further from the required state. Now it sat on her table, remaining as transparent and unyielding as it had been since the day Morgause died. Morgana swallowed down the self-directed resentment. Being able to see Mordred would have at least eased some of Morgana's concerns when he was away from her. Instead all she could do was plot and wait.

As if thoughts of him alone could conjure up the young man in question, Mordred flew into the room, his breath short from the hurried ride from Camelot. Before Morgana had a chance to welcome him, Mordred rushed to her, cupping her face tightly in air-chilled hands. He gazed at her intently as if to memorise every feature, leaving Morgana with no choice but to stare back into his piercing blue eyes.

"M-Mordred?"

"I don't ever want to be away from you again," the sorcerer stated sincerely, smiling wanly before finally releasing her from his grip. Morgana blinked back at him, remaining silent. There was no doubt that she had missed him and the last thing she wanted to do now was upset him with her rejection – not when his eyes sparkled with as much delight as they did now. Ignoring the discomfort of having her space so blatantly invaded, Morgana pressed on, eager to hear of his movements.

"What news do you have from Camelot? How is Arthur?"

"He's finished." Mordred replied as they sat down at Morgana's table.

"Dead?" Morgana asked disbelievingly.

"No," Mordred responded, before noticing the frown etched on Morgana's face and adding quickly: "Either he'll kill himself or someone will have mercy and put him out of his misery. The head is destroyed and now everything else will follow. Camelot is ours for the taking."

"Mine," Morgana corrected, anxious to let Mordred know that she was still the one in control.

"Yours," Mordred agreed obligingly and Morgana grinned back at him with genuine appreciation. "His manservant will be resisting us at every turn though." Mordred shook his head in disbelief as he remembered just how much faith the Druids had put in the man. "He betrays his own kind and continues to stand by Arthur. I'll never understand..."

Mordred's words died on his lips as he saw the grin suddenly leave Morgana's face, confusion etched in her features.

"What do you mean he betrays his own kind?"

Mordred stared at her, his mouth agape and soundless. From the moment he had reunited with Morgana, she had talked about the mysterious 'Emrys' – someone she felt was a dangerous threat to what she wanted to achieve. At first, Mordred had considered telling her his real identity. He had thought Morgana knowing that this powerful sorcerer was no more than the scrawny man who brought the King lunch would somehow comfort her and lessen her fear of him. Instead, as Mordred listened to Morgana obsess over Emrys, he knew it was not an option. Her fixation over the man seemed unhealthy and it would only serve to distract her.

"I- I meant-" Mordred stuttered, his mind empty of excuses and explanations. "I-"

"Merlin? What kind..." Morgana's face drained of colour as the only possible explanation made itself clear to her. Her voice came out in a harsh whisper. "Sorcerer?"

Mordred's expression was the only answer she needed. Morgana's mind worked overtime to process the new information and a flurry of questions fought to escape their fraught prison.

"So he uses magic?" Morgana whispered, her face ashen with disbelief. "He's had magic all this time?"

"Does it truly matter, Morgana?" Mordred queried, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Of course it does and you're a fool to think otherwise!" Morgana snapped, jumping to her feet as her eyes blazed accusingly back at her accomplice. "Why didn't you tell me? You've never mentioned you knew who he was – not once! If Merlin is Emrys, how are we to take Camelot? He's too strong for us..." Mordred snorted derisively at this.

"Morgana, the most I've ever seen him do is give Arthur's shoes a good scrub. Nearly a fortnight I've been in that godforsaken castle and I've yet to witness the great power he's meant to possess. He was right there by the King's side and I still managed to tear Arthur apart. Why are you so frightened of him?

"As Merlin and Emrys he has tried to kill me and he very nearly succeeded. Can't you see he'll do anything to protect Arthur? I've heard what Emrys is meant to be capable of!" The shrillness of her voice caused Mordred to wince.

"You need to calm down, Morgana..." Mordred said slowly with a nervous smile. "There is nothing to fear when we're together...we'll be unstoppable."

Morgana stepped away from him, unable to stop her body from shaking.

"I knew this would worry you," Mordred breathed, stepping forward to try and placate Morgana and hold her steady. "But there's no reason for it. I'm here to protect you."

Morgana's ears throbbed. Her senses were in overdrive. Extracting herself from Mordred's grasp once again, she moved over to her bed and lay down facing away from Mordred and at the wall. Emrys was Merlin. Merlin is Emrys. A servant – her former friend – was her doom.

* * *

Merlin dismounted the horse he had taken from the stables and stepped out into the clearing. Looking up into the starless night sky, he called out the sacred words of a dragonlord – his voice loud and commanding with intent. A few moments passed before the familiar gush of wind signalled Kilgharrah's arrival.

"I need your help," Merlin declared immediately as the dragon landed on the grass with a dull thud. There was no time for pleasantries; Arthur was running out of time.

"Hello to you too, young sorcerer," Kilgharrah replied dryly, shaking the air from his wings.

"Mordred's back." Merlin announced, disregarding his old friend's dig and proceeding to tell Kilgharrah the events that had taken place in the past few days. The dragon listened carefully, his expression sombre as Merlin described the extent of Arthur's illness and the fact that Morgana had to be involved.

"Mordred is a poison. If he has managed to infiltrate Camelot already and joined forces with Morgana, then I fear events leading to Camelot's destruction have already been set in motion."

"Destruction?" Merlin repeated anxiously, confusion distorting his features. "What about our destiny? What about Albion?"

"I warned you before that if you allowed Mordred to live he would be a threat to that destiny," Kilgharrah replied frankly. "And so it has come to pass."

"No!" Merlin yelled heatedly. "There must be something we can do to stop that happening? What's the point of having all this magic if I'm still set to fail?!"

"No future is set in stone, Merlin. You have the power to change it, but I'm not going to deny Mordred's alliance with Morgana will make things a lot harder for you."

Merlin frowned, internally dissecting the dragon's words before voicing concerns that had plagued him since Mordred's return.

"Kilgharrah, if I'm meant to bring this new destiny for Camelot why is Mordred so strong? I'm nowhere near as strong as he is…how can I possibly defeat him? How, if I can't even keep Arthur safe?"

"Don't you see?" Kilgharrah answered as his eyes sparkled knowingly. "It's all in your mind! Something is obviously holding you back; you are stronger than Mordred will ever be. You just have to tap into that inner strength and it seems you can't do that until you let go of whatever is weighing you down."

"What is it?" Merlin asked urgently.

"That is something you need to work out for yourself." Kilgharrah answered carefully, aware that it would only serve to frustrate Merlin further.

"What?!" Merlin hissed incredulously.

"I can't have revelations for you, Merlin, you'll have to unearth this one on your own."

Merlin could not help but tut with irritation.

"So what _can_ you tell me then?"

"Nothing you don't already know," Kilgharrah replied with a wry smile. "Look within yourself and find out why you limit your magic. Only then will you be able to harness the power you are capable of."

"That's really helpful." Merlin scowled. "Forget it. Kilgharrah, Arthur will die if I don't help him. Please tell me there's something I can do?"

"Arthur's mind needs to be cleansed." Kilgharrah replied simply. "One method would be crushing the leaves of a betony plant and-"

"I've already tried that," Merlin cut in exasperatedly. "I've tried every plant, every potion we have to hand. There's no time to research this, that's why I called you. I need your help. Please." Kilgharrah looked down at the young sorcerer, observing the man's desperation.

"There is another way, though there is no guarantee..."

"I'm willing to try anything if it might save him."

"We dragons are blessed with quite a few attributes aside from foresight. Our fire is one of the most intense forms of magic and purification, but our saliva has strong healing properties too." Kilgharrah paused, satisfied to see that Merlin was hanging on his every word. "I believe a dose of it may be able to cleanse Arthur's mind. Naturally, I would offer you mine, but I fear Mordred's hold is too strong. The saliva of a younger dragon would be more potent and likely to heal."

"...Aithusa?" Merlin questioned, a glimmer of hope evident in his tone.

"I've no doubt she'd be willing to help," Kilgharrah confirmed with a nod. "So, shall we get going? It's a long flight."

* * *

Elyan and Gwaine ambled down the candlelit hallway, patrolling the castle for any sign of intruders.

"The bastard's long gone by now," Gwaine muttered, though his hand was still poised tentatively above his sword.

"I don't doubt it," Elyan replied quietly. "But it's better to be safe than sorry. We can do one more circuit before our shift's over. Then I'm going over to see Gwen."

"How is she holding up?" Gwaine murmured, his face etched with concern.

"Honestly, I don't know," Elyan replied with a heavy sigh. "But I do know if anything happens to Arthur it will destroy her."

"When I find that rat, he's going to rue the day he was born," Gwaine snarled. "I'll make him pay for what he's done to the both of them."

"You'll have to get in line."

Continuing their surveillance in silence, the pair slowed their pace when they heard low voices from around the corner at the end of the corridor.

"You need to watch what you say father...that sounded dangerously close to treason."

Putting a hand out to bring Elyan to a halt, Gwaine peered around to see two figures conversing in the empty corridor. He had recognised the voice that spoke; it was Sir Griflet, one of their fellow knights. Which meant the person who had said something unsavoury was his father, Lord Cardol.

"Don't say you're not troubled by how easy it was for our King's mind to become addled by magic," Lord Cardol replied in hushed tones. "I'm only saying what other people are thinking."

"Morgana is cunning and her accomplice managed to infiltrate the castle because he had powerful magic." Griflet snapped irritably. "She may have won this battle but Arthur will win the war – I'm sure of it."

"If you believe so. Still, at least one good thing has come out of this attack. We don't have to entertain the idea of having a maid for a Queen for now. Uther would have turned in his grave."

"Hush, father."

Furious, Elyan reached for his sword but Gwaine placed a firm hand over his in an attempt to pacify his friend. Shaking his head warningly, he held a finger to his lips and motioned for Elyan to leave.

"Go and see your sister," he whispered. Unfortunately, Gwaine was not surprised to hear those words from that particular nobleman. Gwaine had noticed how well Lord Cardol had taken the news earlier that the wedding had been cancelled compared to the other grumbling nobles.

"Father, it appears word is out about the King's condition," Griflet continued, unaware of how close he was to being in the middle of a brawl. "The people are praying for his recovery. Perhaps you should join them."

There was a cold silence before Lord Cardol spoke again.

"Let me assure you I am nothing but loyal to my King," he responded curtly. "I just want what's best for Camelot." With that, his footsteps echoed in the near empty hallway, fading as he walked away. A moment later, Griflet's footsteps could be heard going off in the same direction.

Sensing Elyan's hesitation at leaving him to patrol alone, Gwaine patted Elyan reassuringly on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, I'll ask Sir Griflet to assist me – something tells me he's in need of some better company," Gwaine muttered wryly. Bidding his friend goodbye, Elyan headed for Gaius' cabin, blood still roaring in his ears. Gwen had more poise and 'nobility' in her little finger than the Lord Cardol could ever wish to have.

He could hear faint singing as he knocked lightly on the door of Gaius' cabin. Stepping inside before waiting for a response, he saw Gwen trail off as she looked up to see who had entered. A little calmer, Elyan noticed the dark handprints around his sister's neck and swallowed down words he knew she did not wish to hear.

Gwen smiled weakly up at him and he leaned forward to kiss her lightly on the forehead. She was clutching Arthur's hand and sitting by his bed where he lay motionless; his face pale and his lips blue. A film of sweat coated Arthur's forehead and Elyan was rapidly unnerved by how vulnerable the king looked

"How is he?" Elyan asked, immediately regretting his question. How did he think he was? He looked like death itself.

"As long as we keep him connected to us we still have a chance," Gwen replied softly. "Merlin will be here soon – he'll have help." Elyan frowned.

"Are you sure he'll be able to do anything? I've never seen anyone look this bad." From the corner of his eye, Elyan noticed someone emerging from Merlin's bedroom. Gaius.

"I can assure you, Merlin is doing all he can to save Arthur," he said sternly. "We all just have to have faith." Elyan nodded, suitably apologetic about his negativity. Faith was indeed all they had – he just hoped Merlin managed to come back in time.

* * *

After what seemed like an age, Kilgharrah finally landed on a grassy knoll outside what seemed like a collection of huge mountains. Merlin noticed a large opening in one of them and jumped off Kilgharrah's back before following him into the vast cave.

"Aithusa!" Kilgharrah called. The response was instantaneous. Merlin was stunned to see a figure three times his size fly out from the depths of the cave and plant itself in front of him. The dragon had grown quickly. Her skin was alabaster white, almost translucent and she was already sporting an incredible set of wings that would soon rival her mentor's.

"You look well," Merlin stated, aware how much of an understatement it was. She had been tiny when he had last seen her! How could this be?

"It's good to see you again, Merlin," Aithusa said with a smile. Merlin could not help but grin back. He voice was loud and commanding, but he had never felt safer than in that moment. "I know why you are here and time is of the essence. There will be other times to talk."

"Of course," Merlin nodded, glancing over at Kilgharrah who was watching his charge with something akin to pride. Prising a small bottle out of his pocket, he stepped forward as Aithusa opened her mouth wide. Merlin was acutely aware that she could swallow his head whole if she was that way inclined. Merlin saw Aithusa's blue eyes sparkle with amusement as he reached into her mouth, prompting the young sorcerer to question whether it was wise having her spend so much time with Kilgharrah.

"Hurry," Kilgharrah urged as Merlin corked the small vial of saliva and rubbed Aithusa's neck affectionately.

"Thank you," he said, smiling warmly at the young dragon. "Goodbye, Aithusa."

"Take care, Merlin," Aithusa called after them as they exited the cave. "We will meet again soon."

Brushing off the desire to question what circumstances would lead him back here, Merlin mounted Kilgharrah hurriedly.

"As fast as you can, Kilgharrah!"

* * *

Dawn was creeping up on Camelot when Merlin returned to find the vigil in the castle courtyard. It looked like news of the King's illness had spread thick and fast through the kingdom.

"Excuse me," Merlin called as he tried to push past the throng of grieving people. As the only voice in a sea of silent candle-holders, most of them turned to look at who had interrupted their prayers. Recognising him as their King's right-hand man, they ushered him through the crowd, whispering well wishes as he passed them by.

Merlin could see Percival standing guard outside Gaius' cabin as he approached. Tall, strong and imposing, Merlin knew there was no way anyone who wished Arthur harm would be able to get past him. Tilting his head towards the knight in greeting, Merlin stepped inside the hut and quickly made his way over to Arthur's bedside.

"Merlin!" Gwen cried, instantly leaping away from Arthur's side in order to give her friend room. Gaius stood beside her and watched restlessly as Merlin uncorked the small bottle, forced Arthur's mouth open and tipped its contents down the King's throat. The silence in the room was palpable and nobody in the room dared breathe as they waited for it to take effect.

Without warning, as if he had been stung, Arthur jolted; his body began to shake excessively as the pureness of Aithusa's saliva reacted to the toxin of Mordred's magic. The three watched terrified and with bated breath as Arthur jerked and twisted, his whimpers indicating that he was conscious to the fact his body was in overdrive. Finally, his body stopped moving; stopped breathing. Gwen muffled a sob as Gaius checked Arthur's pulse and lowered his gaze when it could not be found.

"No..." Merlin moaned as he lowered himself resignedly onto the end of Arthur's bed. He buried his head in his palms, unable to comprehend it. Arthur was gone? He could not – would not believe it.

"Wait, I feel something." Gaius' voice rang out like a beacon of hope, causing both Merlin and Gwen to look up at him anxiously. "There's a pulse. It's faint but it's there." Unable to cope with the myriad of emotions overwhelming him, Merlin started to cry. Tears of joy, relief and, ultimately, guilt. It had been too close and it was because he had not been vigilant enough. Even now, Arthur was still not out of the woods. Allowing himself to be wrapped in a hug by Gwen, Merlin could do nothing to quell the tears streaming down his face. If Arthur did not get through this it would be all his fault and Merlin wondered if he would be able to live with that.

* * *

Arthur opened his eyes slowly, the morning light momentarily blinding him before a figure appeared above him. An angel? Reaching out, he blinked slowly, his vision clearing to reveal Guinevere smiling down at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. Arthur slowly stroked her face, unable to stop himself smiling sleepily up at her.

"You were singing," he murmured softly, before remnants of memories from the past few days hit him with cruel precision. Arthur recoiled abruptly and attempted to withdraw his hand from his fiancée's, but Gwen moved to the edge of her seat by his bedside and clasped it tightly, preventing him from doing so.

"You're not going to pull away from me this time, Arthur," Gwen murmured by way of explanation. "I know what you're going to do. You're going to blame yourself and distance yourself from me. Well this time I won't let you."

Arthur shook his head fiercely as he avoided her gaze and continued to try and wrench his arm away from Gwen's, but her grip was too strong. Instead, she held his hand firmly against her cheek.

"Look at me, Arthur...Arthur...Arthur, look at me!" The fierceness of her tone brought Arthur to a standstill and he finally looked into her eyes. The passion and love he could see burning in her chocolate pools threatened to consume him there on the spot. It made him want to hold her and kiss her and never let go; but also made him want to keep her as far away from him as possible, so there was no possible way he could extinguish that fire. Like Agravaine had tried to. Like he himself had almost done.

"I hurt you." Arthur mumbled when he had calmed down, his voice trembling with emotion and fatigue.

"No you didn't." Gwen replied resolutely. "Whatever possessed you did."

"What does that matter, Guinevere?" Arthur cried. "They were my actions! My hands-"

"It wasn't you, Arthur. Because the way you touched me earlier when you awoke? That wasn't the same person who harmed me. It couldn't have been."

"I could have killed you." Arthur countered bitterly, his throat constricting as he spoke. "Guinevere, how can you be so calm about this?"

"I intend to marry you, Arthur," Gwen replied with a small smile. "And that means standing by you in sickness and in health. And you were sick." Leaning forwards, Gwen placed her lips over Arthur's, suppressing his upcoming protest. Every fibre of his being was telling him to push her away and make her run for the hill, but the fact was he did not want to. He needed her. Their kiss deepened; fuelled by the comprehension of how close they were to losing each other and an urgency that was hard to describe. The need to breathe was what finally broke them apart, and they could do nothing but stare at each other as they struggled for air.

"I love you, Guinevere," Arthur gasped eventually, his face flush and his expression pained and disorientated. "I swear on my life I'll never hurt you again. I'll never let anyone hurt you."

"You can't always protect me," Gwen pointed out softly, resting her forehead on his.

"I can try." Arthur tilted his head so he could meet her lips once more. The kiss was chaste but filled with intent and a promise. Arthur knew that for him things were far from okay and that later they would have to talk about this properly. But for now, he just wanted to be close to her.

"Well as long as you let others have a go at protecting _you_ too," Merlin sighed as he walked into the room, having heard the last part of the couple's exchange.

"Merlin!" Arthur attempted to prop himself up on his elbow, but faltered and sank back into the welcoming pillows. Instead he beckoned his friend over to the other side of his bed and Merlin obliged.

"He spent all night looking for the cure he found for you." Gwen revealed, beaming up at the young sorcerer.

"I don't know how to thank you for helping me," Arthur said solemnly, his voice catching inadvertently. "I owe you my life."

"Don't worry about it," Merlin shrugged with a grin. "It's become a habit anyway." Arthur scowled, but noticed that Merlin's smile did not quite reach his eyes. It still surprised and scared Arthur to know the extent of his manservant's dedication to him. Mainly because he felt wholly undeserving of it.

"You never manage to accept thanks with a little grace," Arthur muttered, acknowledging to himself that Merlin always coming to his aid was distinctly true. Determined to change the subject, Arthur thought back to the violent transition his body had recently been through. "Merlin, what did you give me?" Merlin froze, the question catching him off-guard.

"...Why do you ask?"

"I just...I've never felt anything like it. It was like this wave of irrepressible heat was going through my body, fixing everything." Arthur lifted his arm slightly to inspect it. "My skin's a little clearer too," he added distractedly. Merlin exhaled noisily. Perhaps, for once, honestly was just going to have to do.

"Dragon's spit." Merlin replied candidly. A muscle in Arthur's jaw flexed.

"I may be a little groggy, but I'm not an imbecile."

"Of course not! And even if you were, you'd be _our_ imbecile." Gwen said affectionately, giving Arthur's hand a warm squeeze. He glowered in response while Merlin tried and failed to disguise his sniggering.

"I need to say something," Arthur said seriously when the giggling had died down. "There are dark times ahead for Camelot – I can feel it in my soul. And I'm going to need you both here at my side, like you've been countless times before." His voice was hoarse, but determined.

"We'll be there, Arthur." Guinevere stated softly, still clasping his hand as Merlin patted Arthur's shoulder lightly.

"Of course we will. Someone needs to be there to get you out of the trouble."

Fortunately for Merlin, Arthur was too weak to clout him over the head and contented himself with a roll of his eyes. He would let his manservant have that one. After all, he had just saved his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Apparently Aithusa's a girl now ¬_¬ so I've changed things accordingly.
> 
> \- My Mordred is nothing like the one played by the adorkable Alex Vlahos!


End file.
